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3  1822  01134  6327     "^^       'V'^s^ 

Central  University  Library  ^ 

University  of  California,  San  Diego 
Note:  This  item  is  subject  to  recall  after  two  weeks. 

^  Date  Due 


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UCSDLib. 


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PASSAGES 


THE  HISTORY  OF  LIBERTY, 


PASSAGES 


FROM    THE 


HISTORY  or  LIBERTY 


To  tvSuifiov  TO  iXn'ScfJov,  to  Se  iX£v6cQov  7o  ivipvyov  xQivam;. 

Judging  Happiness  to  be  in  Liberty,  and  Liberty  to  be  in  Excellence  of  Soul. 

Pericles  to  the  Athenians.     Thucydiiles.  II.  43. 


BOSTON: 
WILLIAM  D.  TICKNOR    &   COMPANY. 


MDCCCXLVII. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1816,  by 

SAMOEL    ELIOT, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


BOSTON: 

Preir  of  TTiurtton,  Torry,  4-  Emersou, 

31  Devonshire  Slnei. 


PREFACE. 


It  is  hardly  necessary  to  explain  the  connection  between 
the  Passages,  drawn  all  from  one  great  stream  of  History, 
which  are  contained  in  this  little  volume.  The  efforts  of  the 
first  Italian  Reformers,  here,  of  course,  very  briefly  sketched, 
are  illustrations  of  the  isolation  and  travail  of  the  Dark 
Ages.  Wycliffe's  work  was  a  work  of  national  principles, 
just  beginning,  in  his  time,  to  be  acknowledged  by  his  country 
of  England.  Savonarola's  reforms  express  the  desires  for 
peace  and  purification,  which  were  in  all  true  hearts,  during  a 
period  of  so  much  strife  and  so  many  stains,  as  that  period  of 
transition  from  the  Middle  Ages  to  our  Modern  Times.  The 
Castilian  war  is  one  among  numerous  histories  concerning  the 
same  desires  for  juster  principles  and  larger  life,  as  they  were 
in  many  places  forced  into  struggles,  tumultuous  and  unavail- 
ing. 

Without  turning  away  from  abstract  truths,  that  are  vig- 
orous and  beautiful  to  all  who  have  open  souls,  we  may  be 
glad  to  seek  the  greater  power  and  completer  beauty  which 
belong  to  human  examples.  We  begin  with  things  individual 
to  end  with  things  general,  and  all  our  Cathedrals  must  be 
built  up,  column  by  column,  stone  by  stone.  It  is  after  such 
simplest  purposes  that  these  passages  are  here  put  together. 
Although  neither  many  in  number,  nor  full  in  detail,  they  may 
nevertheless  be  as  clear,  separately,  as  a  single  diminutive  vol- 
ume can  be  made  to  comprehend.  I  wish  to  say  one  thing 
very  plainly  about  them  all,  that  their  design,  in  being  histori- 


VI  PREFACE. 

cal  and  in  not  being  biographical,  is  no  further  concerned  with 
the  incidents  of  individual  lives  than  as  the  individual  lives  are 
united  by  these  incidents  to  the  general  history  of  Liberty  and 
of  Humanity. 

We  have  claims,  as  Americans,  upon  History,  that  it  should 
be  written  anew  for  us,  after  our  own  principles  of  thought 
and  action.  Pulchrum  est  bene  facere  reipublicce  ;  etiam  bene 
dicere  haud  absurdum  est.  This  book,  humble  as  it  is,  has 
been  written  in  cordial  sympathy  with  such  desires  as  we 
may  all  be  willing  to  follow,  for  nearer  knowledge  of  some 
remembered  and  some  forgotten  names.  Yet  unless  these 
pages  bear  a  higher  mark,  unless  the  love,  to  which  they  give 
witness,  be  large  as  the  love  of  humanity  and  pure  as  the  love 
of  God,  it  would  be  better  that  they  were  not  printed,  or  even 
written  at  all. 

I  do  not  hesitate  to  add  a  few  words  not  my  o\vn,  even 
though  they  seem  to  make  a  profession,  for  which  others  may 
now  have  little  concern  :  "I  constantly  feel  how  overpower- 
ing the  labor  is  and  how  many  advantages  I  want ;  yet  I  feel, 
too,  that  I  have  the  love  of  History  so  strong  in  me,  that  I 
can  write  something  which  will  be  read,  and  which,  I  trust, 
will  encourage  the  love  of  all  things  noble  and  just  and  wise 
and  holy."  I  ask  only  this,  that  Arnold's  words  may  be 
allowed  to  express  the  purposes  of  one  who  is  Arnold's  pupil 
in  heart. 

Samuel  Eliot. 

December  22,  1S46. 


CONTENTS 


Page 

Early  Italian  Reformers 1 

I.     Isolation  of  the  Middle  Ages        ...       3 
II.     Labor  for  Liberty  :  Arnaldo  da  Brescia         .     15 

III.  Labor  for  Peace  :  Giovanni  di  Vicenza  .     21 

IV,  Labor  for  Country  :  Jacopo  de'  Bussolari      .     24 
V.     Failures  in  such  Reforms     .         .         .         .28 

John  de  Wycliffe      .         .         .         .         .        .  .31 

I.     State  and  Church  in  Wycliffe's  Times  .     33 

II.     Wycliffe's  Birth,  Education,  and  Learning  .     59 

III.  His  Reforms  in  Church  Constitution      .  .     66 

IV.  His  Reforms  in  Church  Doctrine  .         .  .81 
V.     His  Translation  of  the  Scriptures           .  .   109 

VI.     His  Secular  Reforms    .         .         .         .         .114 
A^II.     His  Death  and  Exhumation  .         .         .122 

The  Reforms  of  Savonarola  .  .  .  .  .131 
I.  A  Palm  Sunday  Festival  .  .  .  .133 
II.     Savonarola's  Early  Years    .         .         .         .136 

III.  His  Labor  in  Florence  .         .         .         .153 

IV.  His  Trial  and  Death 191 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

Pag» 

The  War  of  the  Communities  in  Castile         .         .  201 

I.     Castile  and  its  Liberty  ....  203 

II.     The  Early  Years  of  Charles's  Reign       .         .211 

III.  Padilla  and  his  Fellow-Commoners  .         .  221 

IV.  The  War,  from  its  Beginning  in  Toledo  to 

the  Failure  of  the  Commoners'  Demands   .  225 
V.     The  War,  from  the  Gathering  of  Forces  to 

the  Battle  of  Villalar  .         .         .         .248 

VI.     Execution    of  Padilla    and    Submission   of 

Castile 264 


ERRATA. 
There  are  some  corrections  to  be  made  in  this  volume,  for  the  sake  not  only  of  accuracy 
but  of  common  sense,  as  follows  : 

Pa^e  17,  line    5,  read  doctrines  of  frugality  and  justice, 
26,  line    4,  read  divisions  inslend  o/diversions. 
**    66,  line    4,  read  younger  instead  n/ youn^^ 
.q  5  line  7,  read  spiced  instead  o/ special. 
"'  I    "    8,  read  lure  instead  of  love. 
92,  line    1,  read  n^et  instead  o/ set, 

111,  line  12,  wonderful  to  all  instead  o/ wonderfully  strange. 
128,  in  note,  painful  instead  «/ fanciful. 
144,  line  17,  to  have  been  instead  of  to  be. 


EARLY  ITALIAN  REFORMERS 


ARNALDO  DA  BRESCIA,  Died  1155. 
GIOVANNI  DI  VICENZA,  Died  1231. 
JACOPO  DE'  BUSSOLARI,  Died  1360. 


Come  s'impara 
Quanto  morte  sia  piii  che  vita  caia. 

Guittone  di  Arezzo. 


Mea  have  discovered  that  something  was  done  in  this  so-called 
dark  time,  (the  Middle  Ages,)  which  wre  in  our  bright  time  could 
not  well  dispense  with.  —  Professor  Maurice. 


EARLY  ITALIAN  REFORMERS. 


The  Church  of  Rome,  although  now  aban- 
doned by  many  generations,  was  long  ago  the 
great  strong-hold  of  humanity.  Open  to  all  men 
and  to  most  opinions,  liberal  and  progressive  in 
its  best  influences,  it  united  and  protected  Europe 
through  those  Middle  Ages,  when  Europe  was 
broken  up  in  divisions,  and  surrendered  to  feu- 
dality. While  the  Church  was  defending  itself, 
it  was  also  defending  mankind.  A  poor  carpen- 
ter's son,  Hildebrand,  became  the  great  pope 
Gregory  Seventh,  and  he,  giving  voice  and  action 
to  demands  which  the  age  about  him  was  pre- 
pared to  sustain,  declared  his  spiritual  power 
independent  of  all  temporal  authority.  The  great 
purpose  of  Gregory's  life  was  accomplished  not 
long  after  his  death,  and  Rome,  set  free,  seemed 
destined   to  become  again  the  mother  of  living 


4  EARLY   ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

empires.*  On  her  laws,  society  as  well  as  religion, 
now  depended;  by  her  keys,  it  was  believed,  the 
world  here  and  the  world  hereafter  were  unlocked 
to  men;  and  to  her  altars  was  brought  the  worship 
of  confiding  hearts.  Feudal  force  submitted,  or 
seemed  to  submit,  to  Church-principles,  and,  as  it 
were  in  emblem  of  these,  there  rose  from  out  cold 
stones  the  Cathedral  column  and  the  Cathedral 
spire.  To  this  time,  even,  we  might  have  been 
among  the  dreamers  and  the  pilgrims  of  Rome, 
had  she  done  half  she  pretended  to  fulfil.  But 
the  day  of  triumph  passed  away,  and  the  day  of 
shame  drew  nigh.  The  principles  which  the 
Church  professed,  it  presently  upheld  by  force  as 
much  as  by  reason,  and  in  abandoning  its  own 
laws,  it  divided  and  deceived  its  people.  When 
it  was  lifted  up  above  its  enemies,  when  the 
strong  and  the  weak  were  both  at  its  mercy,  then, 
even  then,  did  it  set  itself  up  as  strongest  of  all, 
and  deny  its  better  promises  in  injustice  and  in 
persecution.  Rome  rose,  in  the  Dark  Ages,  by 
faith ;  she  began  to  fall  by  superstition,  even  be- 
fore the  Dark  Ages  were  gone ;  and  as  the  world 
was  for  a  season  bound  to  her  by  charity,  so 
by  oppression  was  it  sundered  from  her  forever. 
Between  the  first  Crusade  against    the  Saracens 


*  It  was  in  1122,  that  Henry  V.,  Emperor,  formally  yielded  to 
Calixtus  II.,  Pope,  the  claims  which  German  Emperors  had  hith- 
erto maintained  to  interference  in  Church  elections.  Gregory 
VII.  died  in  1035. 


EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS.  5 

(in  1095)  and  the  Crusade  against  the  Albi- 
geois  (in  1209),  there  were  hut  one  hundred 
years  ;  yet  that  single  century  separates  cathohc 
and  uncathohc  Rome.* 

How  the  increasing  vigor  of  Europe,  grown 
already  from  youth  towards  maturity,  should 
be  turned  to  good  things,  without  greater  h6lp 
from  the  Church,  was  apparently  the  great 
doubt  of  those  doubtful  times.  But  Europe  was 
still  ruled  by  feudal  principles,  just  as  it  long  had 
been,  in  every  part  of  its  society.f  Kings,  barons, 
and  priests,  at  least,  devoted  themselves  to  feu- 
dality, seizing  upon  it  as  it  were  a  cord  by  which 
they  could  be  dragged  on  their  own  rugged  ways. 
The  points  to  which  they  were  bent,  although 
certainly  wide  enough  apart,  were  in  the  same 
direction  before  them,  so  that  in  their  struggling 
together,  there  was  some  progress  towards  our 
modern  world,  of  which  they  never  dreamed. 
Yet  there  was  a  strange  confusion  of  various 
elements,  that  feudality  could  but  painfully  com- 


*  Ove  '1  ben  more  e'l  mal  si  nutre  e  cria.  —  Petrarca,  Son, 
CVII. 

t  Les  elements  meme  les  plus  etrangers  h  ce  systeme  (feodal) 
I'Eglise,  les  communes,  la  royaute,  furent  contraints  de  s'y  ac- 
commoder  ;  les  eglises  devinrent  suzeraines  et  vassales,  les  villes 
eurent  des  seigneurs  et  des  vassaux,  la  royaule  se  cacha  sous  la 
suzerainete.  *  *  De  meme  que  tous  les  elements  generaux 
de  la  societe  entraient  dans  le  cadre  feodal,  de  meme  les  moindres 
details,  les  moindres  fails  de  la  vie  commune  devenaient  matiere 
de  feodalite. — Guizot,  Civ.  en  Europe,  Leqon  IV, 


b  EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

prehend.  The  world  was  made  up  of  great 
barons  and  ambitious  prelates,  of  troubled  kings 
and  tumultuous  communities,  of  turbid  thinkers 
and  what  our  Chaucer  calls  "sheepy  people;" 
all  these  were  thrown  together  in  one  huge, 
tumbling  heap,  which  feudality  was  to  beat  up 
with  its  "iron  flail."  Church  became  feudal  and 
worldly;  government  was  made  up  of  much 
despotism  and  little  law ;  so  that  the  purity  of 
religion  and  the  knowledge  of  liberty  were  lost  as 
soon  as  acquired. 

In  most  states  the  people  were  of  no  possible 
importance,  but  followed  carelessly  after  popes 
in  whom  they  believed,  or  lords  whom  they 
feared.  No  other  destiny  was  clear  to  them 
than  the  destiny  of  suffering.* 

From  all  these  sources,  of  good  but  more 
of  evil,  there  sprang  strife  and  destruction,  de- 
sires and  fears,  almost  without  end.  Men  and 
things  were  all  isolated.  The  principle  of  the 
age  was  feudality,  and  the  real  principle  of  feu- 
dality was  isolation.  The  priest  only  Avas  united 
with  his  brethren,  his  brother-priests,  certainly  not 
with  his  brother  men.  The  noble,  the  burgher, 
and  the  husbandman  were  as  far  apart  in  pur- 
poses as  if  they  belonged  to  different  worlds. 
There    was    no    unity    of   action,    no   unity  of 


*  E  la  povera  gente  sbigottita 
Ti  scopre  Ic  sue  piaghe  a  mille  e  mille. 

Petrarca,  Canz.  VI. 


EARLY    ITALIAN    KEFORMERS.  7 

thought ;  everything  depended  upon  individuals;  * 
each  man  was  bound  to  his  single  work,  but  that 
work,  in  solitude  or  in  the  world,  was  not  un- 
watched  by  Providence.  There  was  want  of 
repose,  want  of  change,  want  of  success  ;  yet  in 
spite  of  contrary  currents,  the  great  stream  of 
human  progress  was  flowing  on.  State  and 
Church,  if  we  may  speak  so  generally,  were  then 
first  brought  near  each  other,  but  their  approach 
was  only  accidental,  and  they  were  again  more 
unhappily  separated.!  All  that  possessed  the 
power  to  unite  these  parted  and  isolated  interests, 
was  fanatical  enterprise,  not  only  in  such  as  the 
six  great  crusades,  with  which  we  are  all  familiar, 
but  in  such  as  the  Flagellants  or  the  Shepherds,  J 
whose  wild  enthusiasm  was  common  to  their 
times.  There  was  even  a  crusade  of  children, 
ninety  thousand  in  number,  who,  with  some 
grown  men  and  women,  set  out  from  Germany, 

*  II  n'y  avait  aucun  moyen  de  gouvernement  central,  perma- 
nent, independant.  II  est  clair  que  dans  un  tel  systeme,  aucun 
individu  n'etail  en  mesure  *  *  de  faire  respecter  de  tous  le 
droit  general. — Guizot,  Civ.  en  Europe,  Legon  IV. 

t  "That  new  form  [of  society,  following  'the  destruction  of 
the  old  Western  empire,']  exhibited  a  marked  and  recognised 
division  between  the  so-called  secular  and  spiritual  powers,  and 
thereby  has  maintained  in  Christian  Europe  this  unhappy  distinc- 
tion, which  necessarily  prevailed  in  the  heathen  empire  between 
ihe  church  and  the  state  ;  etc." — Arnold,  Preface  to  Hist.  Rome. 
Vol.  I. 

t  Of  which  a  brief  and  intelligible  account  may  be  found  in 
Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  Chap.  ix.  Pt.  1. 


8  EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

under  the  guidance,  they  heheved  to  he  inspired, 
of  a  child.  They  wandered  as  far  as  Genoa,  but 
finding  there  that  the  sea  could  not  be  crossed 
by  faith  alone,  they  separated  from  each  other, 
and  were  then,  in  great  part,  seized  and  sold  to 
the  Saracens  as  slaves.  But  this  fanatic  tem- 
per was  far  more  savagely  shown  in  the  divi- 
sions which  filled  cities  with  strife,  and  families 
with  misery.  There  is  no  better  illustration  of 
the  spirit  which  prevailed  in  those  passionate 
days,  especially  throughout  Italy,  than  the  story 
of  Imilda  Lambertazzi,  the  Juliet  of  Bologna. 
The  enmities  among  the  Bolognese  were  led  in 
chief  by  the  Lambertazzi  and  the  Qieremei,  two 
very  principal  families.  Bonifazio  Gieremei  loved 
Imilda  Lambertazzi,  and  was  loved  in  return; 
but  this  "prodigious  birth  of  love,"  far  from  per- 
suading their  kinsfolk  to  reconciliation,  so  en- 
raged the  brothers  of  Imilda,  that  they  stabbed 
Bonifazio  with  a  poisoned  weapon,  leaving  their 
sister  to  die  in  sucking  poison  from  the  wound 
even  such  heart-devotion  could  not  heal.  The 
cruel  death  of  that  gallant  lover,  the  vain  sacri- 
fice of  that  true  woman,  and  the  tumults  which 
laid  waste  Bologna,  when  this  sad  story  was 
known,  are  all  peculiar  to  hate,  discord,  longing, 
love,  such  as  then  made  up  the  changing  scenes 
of  life.  There  was  something  wrong  in  chivalry, 
that  it  could  make  men  brave  but  not  excellent, 
women  charming  but  not  virtuous.     Its  influence 


EARLY    ITALIAN    REFOUMERS.  M 

was  to  fill  the  world  with  noise,  and  nothing 
more  ;  and  Livy's  saying  about  the  Gauls  of  an- 
cient days,  that  they  were  a  people  born  for  use- 
les  tumults,  [nata  in  vanos  tumultus  gens,]  may 
be  applied  to  the  knights  and  dames  of  more 
recent  times.*  But  chivalry  professed  great  the- 
ories, and  for  them,  at  least,  men  may  be  grateful. 
If  beauty  or  courage  or  piety  could  be  followed 
ideally,  they  could  be  also  followed  really.  The 
love,  which  was  raised  above  all  other  things. 
was  perfect  in  strength,  in  virtue,  and  in  faith. 

Suche  love  is  goodly  for  to  have  ; 
Suche  love  maie  the  body  save  ; 
Suche  love  maie  the  soule  amende  ; 
The  Highe  God  suche  love  us  sende 
Forthwith  ;  the  remenaunt  of  grace, 
So  that  above  in  thilke  place, 
Where  resteth  love  and  all  pees,  [peace] 
Our  joye  maie  be  endeless.t 

So  in  all  things  there  was  striving  after  ideal 
forms,  which  coidd  not  be  seen  without  bringing 
light  to  eyes  and  hearts.  Even  to  distracted 
feudal  times,  we  owe  many  of  our  present  fan- 
cies and  present  blessingk  The  grass  grew 
again  where  hard-hoofed  horses  trod ;  industry 


*  [Chivalry,]  "  to  me  so  hateful,  because  it  is  in  direct  opposi- 
tion to  the  impartial  justice  of  the  Gospel,  and  its  comprehensive 
feeling  of  equal  brotherhood,  and  because  it  so  fostered  a  sense 
of  honor  rather  than  a  sense  of  duty."- — Arnold,  Life  and  Corresp. 
Ch.  V.  Let.  5  ;  also  see  Hist.  Rome,  note  to  p.  476,  3d  vol. 

t  John  Gower,  died  1403. 


10  EARLY    ITALIAN    REFOKMERS. 

sprang  up  where  it  was  more  than  once  de- 
stroyed ;  *  and  hopes  crowded  close  with  fears 
upon  men's  souls.  As  the  old  French  Chron- 
icler wrote  Les  Gestes  de  Dieu  par  les  Francs, 
we  can  trace  God's  Achievements  in  the  world's 
darkest  years.  Such  a  Divine  Comedy  as  Dante 
wrote,  such  a  Great  Charter  as  King  John  gave 
to  our  English  forefathers,  were  things  gained  for 
all  ages.  Little  else  than  smoke  may  seem  to 
have  struggled  forth  from  the  shadowy  momitain 
beyond  the  sea,  but  when  we  leave  our  day- 
light behind  and  climb  up  there  in  the  night- 
time, we  shall  see  convulsive  flames,  which  in 
wilder  hours,  shone  over  earth  and  kindled 
heaven. 

The  end  of  feudality  was  sure  to  come,  so 
soon  as  its  work  was  done  and  humanity  was 
becoming  mature.  It  had  never  been  much 
more  than  a  heavy  chain  borne  by  society  for 
the  sake  of  some  sort  of  union,  and  when  it 
could  hang  together  no  longer,  it  dropped,  and 
was  soon  rusted  away.f  One  among  those  who 
first  taught  men  to  distrust  the  claims  which 
feudality,  in  Church  and  State,  made  upon  them, 
was   Abelard.      Ardent,    attractive   and   selfish, 


*  Celui  qui  a,  aura  davantage  ;  cclui  qui  manque  aura  t'oujours 
moins,  si  I'induslrie  ne  jelte  un  pout  sur  I'aliime  qui  separe  le 
pauvre  el  le  riche. — Michdct,  Inlrod.  h  VHlst.  UniverscUe. 

t  Tout  en  empruntant  la  forme  feodale,  les  institutions,  les 
elements    de   la  sociel6    qui  n'ctaient  pas    analogues    au  regime 


EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS.  11 

early  risen  and  early  fallen,  he  was  himself  a  rep- 
resentative of  what  was  around  him.  To  the 
five  thousand  disciples,  who  sat  together  at  his 
feet,  he  spoke  as  they  had  heard  no  man  speak 
before,  of  great  duties  and  great  rights,  belonging 
to  their  own  intellects.  Yet  when  they  listened 
with  throbbing  hearts  for  words  which  should 
teach  them  how  to  work  out  together  the  truths 
he  had  made  them  believe,  they  could  hear  no 
more  than  the  empty  echoes  of  his  voice  repeating 
what  they  did  not  need  to  be  told  again. 

Italy  was  first  *  of  all  countries  in  the  feudal 
age,  although  it  was  less  connected  than  any 
other  with  feudality.  The  character  of  Italian 
cities  in  their  early  history,  is  very  generally 
known  to  have  been  peculiar  to  them  alone. 
Where  nobles  and  priests  and  laborers  were  all 
living  close  within  the  same  walls,  there  was, 
of  course,  fairer  chance  for  justice,  and  even  for 
some  sort  of  equality,  than  where  a  people  was 
scattered  over  a  wide  country,  exposed  to  ad- 
venturous knights  or  marauding  men  at  arms. 
Yet,  strange  at  first  to  believe,  there  was  no 
greater  unity  of  spirit  between  different  citizens, 
such  as  Florentines  and  Milanese,  than  between 
such  serfs  as  dwelt  far  apart  upon  the  plains  of 


feodal  ne  renonijaient  pas  k  leur  nature,  h.  leur  principe  propre. — 
Guizot,  Civ.  en  Europe,  Lcgon  IV. 
*  Giardin  dell'  impero,  as  Dante  was  proud  to  call  it. 


12  EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

France.  The  isolation  which  feudal  influences 
alone  did  not  bring  upon  Italy,  crept  within  the 
walls  of  its  city-commonwealths,  and  ruled  over 
them  as  triumphantly  as  if  they  had  been  city- 
despotisms.  While  they  were  thus  divided  by 
barriers  stronger  than  the  Apennines,  there  was 
much  to  fill  them  with  passion  and  violence  and 
distress.  The  Church  of  Rome  by  turns  over- 
shadowed Italy  with  fear,  or  brightened  it  with 
hope ;  but  as  her  better  purposes  could  have 
brought  abundant  blessings,  so  her  evil  influences 
came  laden  with  desolating  sorrows.*  There 
seemed  to  be  contradiction  in  all  things;  liberty 
dwelt  side  by  side  with  tyranny,  and  the  church 
was  quite  as  much  a  den  of  thieves  as  the  house 
of  prayer.  Still,  along  the  Italian  coast  rolls  a 
tideless  sea,  whose  beauty  might  make  a  hermit 
wish  to  sail  upon  its  waves ;  and  back,  but  a 
few  miles  from  the  shore,  are  deep-buried  valleys, 
where  man's  spirit  is  humbled  by  the  severe 
solemnity  of  a  mountain-land.  Great  hopes, 
divine  aspirings,  heart-breaking  fears,  and  life- 
destroying  failures  belong  to  the  whole  history 
of  Italy,  but,  more  than  all  other  times,  to  those 
in  which  Arnaldo  da  Brescia,  Giovanni  di  A''icenza, 


*  Abbiamo  dunque  colla  Chiesa  e  coi  preti  noi  Italiani  questo 
primo  ohbli^o,  d'essere  diveiitati  senza  religionc  e  cuttivi;  mane 
abbiamo  un  maggioie  [maggiore !  ]  il  quale  e  cagione  della  rovina 
nostra.  Q.ucsto  e  che  la  Chiesa  ha  teDuto  e  tiene  questa  nostra 
proviiicia  divisa. — Machiavelli,  Disc.  sop.  Tito  Livio.  I.  12. 


EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS.  13 

and  Jacopo  de'  Bussolari,  her  early  reformers, 
lived  and  died.  Italy  was  great,  when  Germany 
was  shamed  in  the  person  of  her  Emperor ;  * 
when  Spain  was  but  a  battle-field  for  Christians 
and  Moors ;  when  France  was  buffeted  by  her 
own  feudal  barons ;  when  our  mother  country 
was  unhonored  and  unknown.  Commerce  was 
covering  such  as  the  Venitians  with  wealth  and 
renown ;  jurisprudence  was  drawing  thousands 
to  its  fountain-head  at  Bologna ;  and  art  had 
chosen  that,  rather  than  any  other  land,  to  be  its 
paradise.  Cimabue's  devout  pictures,  of  which 
a  king  f  was  fain  to  say,  that  they,  of  all  things, 
had  given  him  greatest  pleasure  since  he  was 
king,  these  still  make  us  believe  how  high  hu- 
manity did  then  aspire.  Petrarch,  trying  many 
ways,  but  in  few  only  succeeding,  brings  down 
to  us  the  hopes,  the  sorrows,  and  the  songs  of 
his  mysterious  times.  Dante,  J  the  exile  and  the 
lonely-hearted,  can  tell  us,  now,  why  men  were 
restless,  when  there  was  much  to  give  them 
contentment,  and  unfortunate,  when  we  behold 
so  much  in  them  that  was  glorious. 

One  sees  more  easily  what  was   to  be   done 
for  Italy  in  the  twelfth,   thirteenth,  or  fourteenth 


*  When  Henry  VI.  stood  barefoot  at  Canossa,  (1077,)  or  when, 
just  one  hundred  years  later,  Frederic  Barbarossa  knelt  on  St. 
Mark's  Square,  (1177.) 

t  Charles  of  Anjou. 

t  D'ogni  dolore  ostello  e  chiave. 


14  EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

centuries,  than  how  it  was  to  be  done.  Popes 
were  beginning  to  be  too  much  concerned  about 
mere  temporal  interests,  to  look  out  upon  wider 
and  remoter  prospects.  Emperors  were  soon  too 
far  abased  in  all  men's  eyes,  to  have  any  other 
influence  than  that  of  arms.  Nor  was  it  long 
after  the  beginning  of  this  same  period,  that  the 
liberties  of  the  Italian  free  cities  were  lying, 
like  corpses  on  a  battle-j&eld,  at  the  mercy  of  the 
Signori,  the  Lords,  who  had  every  where  pre- 
vailed against  them.  All  the  great  powers  seemed 
to  have  shrunk  away,  and  men,  more  than  ever 
individually  dependent  upon  themselves,  felt  how 
sore  was  the  need  of  strength,  of  spirit,  of  reform. 
The  only  active  and  stable  element  of  society  was 
in  the  religious  orders  of  the  Romish  Church. 
They  were  to  Italy  of  the  Middle  Ages,  what 
Ephors  or  Augurs  had  been  in  ancient  days,  and 
from  out  their  midst  came  Italy's  earliest  reform- 
ers. Their  monasteries,  hid  from  view  like  the 
Cyclops'  dwelling  of  old,  were  filled  with  "sons 
of  Heaven  and  Earth,"  busy  in  forging  bolts  to 
shake  the  world.*  The  Avorks  done  in  them 
would  have  been  more  perfect,  had  not  they  who 
labored  too  nearly  resembled  the  Cyclops  them- 
selves, in  having  or  using  but  a  single  eye.  So 
that  the  great  purposes  which  came  from  them  were 

*  It  is  curious  in  reading  two  or  three  lines  of  Homer  to  carry  out 
this  comparison  between  the  Cyclops  and  the  monks  of  the  Middle 
Ages.     See  Odyssey,  ix.,  106-115. 


EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS.  15 

not  always  wise,  and  even  the  great  deeds  which 
were  done  throngh  them  were  not  always  sccnre. 
Yet  monasteries  were  sanctuaries  of  learning, 
when  learning  was  most  universally  abandoned ; 
schools  of  policy,  when  times  were  most  danger- 
ous ;  and,  above  all,  asylums  of  charity,  when 
poor  people  most  needed  protection.  The  pro- 
phets of  the  Dark  Ages  prepared  themselves  with- 
in convent-walls  to  go  forth  and  do  good  to  their 
fellow-beings. 


IT. 


Arnaldo  da  Brescia  was  born  in  the  beginning 
of  the  twelfth  century.  The  strife  between  popes 
and  emperors  was  already  at  an  end,  bu!  it  had 
left  lessons  of  liberty  which  were  not  wholly  lost. 
Love  of  freedom  began  to  take  the  place  of  fanat- 
icism, and  all  the  more  readily,  that  the  impurities 
of  Church  and  priesthood  were  swollen  to  loath- 
someness during  the  long  contests  with  the  Em- 
pire, There  were  anti-popes  and  anti-factions  in 
Rome,  short-lived  indeed,  but  desolating  as  though 
they  had  endured  for  centuries.  Nobles  were  tur- 
bulent and  people  were  ignorant ;  so  that  priests 
seemed  to  have  their  own  way,  when  opposition 
was  made  to  them  by  one  among  their  own  num- 


16  EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

ber.  Arnaldo  da  Brescia's  voice  was  bravely 
raised  against  violence  and  immorality.  He  re- 
sisted, almost  alone,  the  new  claims  his  Church 
was  urging  to  full  possession  of  ecclesiastical 
property,  which  it  had  hitherto  been  content  to 
administer  according  to  early  laws.  "  My  king- 
dom," said  Arnaldo,  in  memory  of  his  Divine 
Master,  "My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world,  and 
this  shall  the  Church  follow."  He  gave  expression 
to  good  desires  still  clinging  about  men's  hearts. 
Not  only  to  Church,  but  to  all  society,  he  would 
have  brought  back  truth  and  love,  the  corner- 
stones of  Christian  freedom.  He  was  the  first 
and  favorite  pupil  of  Abelard,  whose  teachings 
then  attracted  all  the  best  among  young  Italians 
to  France.  But  Arnaldo' s  character  was  greatly 
different  from  that  of  his  speculative  and  mystical 
teacher.  He  was  a  student,  not  only  because  he 
loved  learning,  but  because  he  would  make  learn- 
ing useful  to  the  world  in  which  he  lived.  His 
studies  seem  to  have  been  connected  with  the  re- 
forms he  planned,  long  before  his  first  labors  began 
in  Brescia,  where  he  took  religious  orders  after  his 
return  from  France.     He  preached  of  all  things 

"  that  give  the  flower 
Of  fleeting  life  its  lustre  and  its  perfume  ;" 

but  what  most  distinguished  him  was  the  manli- 
ness with  which  he  resisted  the  oppressions  and 
prodigalities  of  the  bishop  of  Brescia.  There  was 
no  one  else  who  dared  to  rebuke  Rome,  itself,  but 


EARLY   ITALIAN    REFORMERS.  17 

Amaldo  never  feared.  His  pure  life  won  him 
friends  ;  his  great  eloquence  brought  him  follow- 
ers ;  but  his  self-denying  truth  was  soon  a  mark 
to  many  enemies.  As  early  as  1139,  Amaldo' s 
doctrines  were  condemned  by  one  of  those  La- 
teral! Councils  which  would  have  put  down  hu- 
manity.* He  was  declared  guilty  of  schism, 
ordered  to  cease  from  preaching,  and  then  sen- 
tenced to  exile.  Rejected  by  Italy,  by  his  own 
native  land,  he  found  peace  and  usefulness  in 
Switzerland. 

A  Republican  party  had  long  existed  in  Rome. 
It  recognized  the  superiority  of  the  Emperor's 
temporal,  and  the  Pope's  spiritual  powers,  but 
did  not  know  how  to  establish  its  own  claims. 
Not  only  the  people,  but  a  great  part  of  the 
nobility,  exasperated  beyond  all  prudence,  rose 
against  their  pope,  and  so  alarmed  him,  that  he 
denied  his  own  authority,  and  fled  away  from 
Rome.  But  he  left  his  tumultuous  subjects  in  a 
very  unprofitable  state  of  confusion  and  feeble- 
ness. Some  among  them  remembered  Arnaldo's 
name  and  teachings,  at  Brescia,  and  to  him  they 
turned  in  their  own  doubtfulness,  summoning  his 
presence  and  his  counsel.  He  had  been  five  years 
beyond  the  mountains,  when  the  sound  of  these 


*  Even  as  Dante  said,  although  with  an  unlike  meanins 
Quando  Laterano 
Alle  cose  mortali  ando  di  sopra. 
2 


18  EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

faint  and  imploring  voices  came  to  him  in  exile  ; 
and  without  hesitation  he  called  some  Swiss  to 
follow  him,  and  hastened  with  them  to  Rome. 
His  energy  soon  breathed  new  life  into  hopes  that 
had  nearly  perished  without  him,  at  their  very 
birth.  His  objects  were  not  to  build  up  a  democ- 
racy, but  to  form  some  sort  of  government  which 
should  be  able  to  protect  itself  equally  against 
imperial  tyranny  and  papal  wrong.  A  senate, 
already  assembled,  was  by  his  advise  increased  in 
number  and  strengthened  by  laws.  He  made 
Consuls  the  chief  magistrates  of  the  State,  and 
for  their  support  revived  the  equestrian  order,  at 
least  in  name.  All  that  he  believed  would  make 
Rome  glorious,  he  was  earnest  in  planning,  ear- 
nest in  doing ;  but  although  Rome,  more  easily 
than  any  other  place  on  the  earth,  might  have 
accepted  the  resurrection  he  attempted  of  ancient 
forms,*  it  was  no  time  for  the  old  Commonwealth 
to  be  renewed.  The  Capitol-rock,f  was  buried 
beneath  long,  heavy  years.  The  purposes  to 
which  Arnaldo  was  now  devoting  himself,  al- 
though chiefly  political,  were  not  altogether  sepa- 
rated from  more  Christian  reforms.  The  tumult 
and  strife  he  found  in  Rome  were,  at  his  bidding, 
stilled.  The  authority  he  established  was  the 
authority  of  justice.     The  manners  he  formed  by 

*  Questa  provincia  pare  nata  a   resuscitare    le    cose  morte. — 

Machiavclll. 
i  Capitoli  immobile  saxum. 


EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS.  19 

his  own  example,  were,  although  he  succeeded 
but  ill  part,  the  manners  of  a  well-ordered  people. 
He  was  the  restorer  of  liberty,  and  the  restorer  of 
purity,  so  far  as  Rome  was  willing  to  profess  and 
defend  them.     So  passed  eight  full  years. 

The  first  thing  done  by  English  Pope  Adrian, 
after  his  accession,*  was  to  excommunicate  Ar- 
naldo  da  Brescia.  Such  an  absurd  sentence  was 
easily  resisted,  so  long  as  the  Romans  were  faith- 
ful to  him,  who  had  done  all  for  them.  A  few 
months  later,  one  of  the  Cardinals  having  been 
killed  in  a  street  brawl,  the  Pope  laid  the  city 
itself  under  an  interdict,  which  he  declared  should 
continue  in  force  until  the  man,  who  dared  to 
oppose  his  will,  was  expelled  or  slain.  One 
scarcely  believes  his  eyes  in  reading  that  Arnaldo 
was  driven  away  by  the  Romans,  at  the  Pope's 
command,  but  it  was  really  so ;  and  after  living 
among  these  weak-hearted  men,  their  best  bene- 
factor, after  giving  Rome  the  peacefullest  years  of 
her  medioeval  history,  Arnaldo  went  out,  banish- 
ed, insulted,  deserted,  to  take  refuge  with  some 
country-noblemen,  who  were  still  true  to  him. 
Frederic  Barbarossa  was  just  then  coming,  in 
youth  and  ambition,  to  put  on  his  imperial  crown 
in  Rome.  From  him.  Pope  Adrian  demanded 
assistance  in  crushing  the  violent  tumults  which 


*  Nicholas  Breakspere,  a  vigorous  and  choleric  English  monk^ 
was  made  Pope  in  1153. 


20  EARLY   ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

broke  out  after  Arnaldo's  departure,  and  Frederic 
was  easily  persuaded  to  do  the  Pope's  bidding. 
The  nobles,  with  whom  Arnaldo  believed  himself 
secure,  surrendered  him  to  the  Emperor's  officers 
sent  to  seize  him,  and  Rome,  senate  and  people, 
abandoned  him  to  meet  his  fate  undefended,  but 
not  unmourned.  The  preacher  of  virtue,  the 
worker-out  of  liberty,  the  one  true  heart  that  beat 
with  perfect  love  for  God  and  man,  Arnaldo  da 
Brescia,  was  burned  upon  the  Piazza  del  Popolo 
(1155.)  His  ashes  were  thrown  into  the  Tiber, 
and  the  better  hopes  of  Rome  were  scattered  to  the 
winds. 

But  labors,  like  those  in  which  Arnaldo  died, 
do  never  utterly  perish.  His  example,  full  of 
confidence  while  he  lived,  was  full  of  consolation 
when  he  was  dead.  The  Roman  senate  and 
people,  unworthy  such  devotion  as  he  gave  them, 
submitted  to  the  popes  they  could  not  resist  with- 
out him.  But  in  Arnaldo's  native  Lombardy, 
the  same  Emperor  Frederic,  who  had  sacrificed 
him  to  Pope  Adrian,  lost  seven  armies,  one  after 
another,  in  attempting  to  destroy  all  Lombard 
liberty,  and  was  finally  and  utterly  defeated  at 
Legnano,  twenty  years  after  the  death  of  Arnaldo. 
IJuomo  alV  uom  sobranza — man  prevaileth  against 
man. 


EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS.  215 


III. 


It  was  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  following  cen- 
tury (xiiith)  that  Giovanni  di  Vicenza  preached 
peace  to  troubled  times.  Naples  was  wasted  by 
the  tumultuous  contests  among  her  nobility ; 
Florence  was  the  prey  of  blood-thirsty  factions ; 
Lombardy  was  divided  by  Guelph  and  Ghibe- 
line  wars  ;  worse  than  all,  Rome  had  unsheathed 
the  flaming  sword,  with  which  persecutions  and 
murders  were  to  be  dealt  out  to  men,  in  religion's 
name.  Italy,  always  in  want  of  repose,  never 
needed  it  more  than  then,  and  to  direct  the  hopes, 
which  good  men  could  not  help  forming,  there 
came  to  many  places  monks  preaching  against 
unnatural  war.  The  prayer  of  the  age,  like 
Dante's,  was  for  peace. 

Giovanni  di  Vicenza,  a  Dominican  friar,  first 
preached,  with  any  repute,  at  Bologna,  (1233.) 
He  was  noble  by  birth,  and  young  in  years,  per- 
haps not  more  than  twenty,  at  that  time.  The 
eloquence  of  his  days  was  a  strange  medley  of 
sacred  and  profane  things,  but  such  were  Giovan- 
ni's natural  powers,  that  all  the  citizens  and  coun- 
try people  of  Bologna  believed  in  what  he  said  to 
them,  and  followed  where  he  led  them  "  with 
cross  and  banners."  An  old  chronicle  of  Bologna 
declares,  that  "  every  man,  both  great  and  small, 
went  with  the  friar,  blessing  the  name  of  Christ." 


22  EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

He  was  able  to  reconcile  the  oldest  enemies,  and 
to  reform  the  oldest  abuses,  not  only  in  Bologna, 
but  throughout  the  greater  part  of  Lombardy. 
Every  people,  among  whom  he  went,  welcomed 
him  as  if  he  had  been  a  conqueror,  with  all  sorts 
of  rejoicing  and  submission.  The  magistrates 
of  the  cities,  in  which  he  preached,  brought  him 
their  laws  to  be  revised  and  framed  for  peace  such 
as  they  had  not  hitherto  known.  Another  Italian 
chronicler  describes  Giovanni  as  one  who,  "pleas- 
ing to  God  and  to  man,  made  many  preachings 
through  cities,  villages,  and  camps ;  and  with  him 
was  God."  The  scene  of  his  greatest  triumph 
was  at  Paquara,  near  Verona.  One  *  of  the  last 
days  in  summer,  four  hundred  thousand  people, 
as  some  say,  and  certainly  a  greater  multitude 
than  had  ever  before  been  gathered  in  Lombardy, 
assembled  on  the  plains  about  the  town.  They 
came,  with  magistrates  and  city-ensigns,  from  all 
the  surrounding  states,  and  most  "  for  reverence 
sake,"  were  barefoot  and  bareheaded.  In  the 
midst  of  this  far-stretching  crowd,  their  prophet 
Giovanni  di  Vicenza  appeared  upon  a  wooden 
platform,  or  rather  observatory,  built  up  ninety 
feet  high.  There  he  preached  to  them  upon  the 
words  our  Saviour  spoke  to  His  disciples  :  "  Peace 
I  leave  with  you,  my  peace  I  give  unto  you,"  and 
even   iron-armed   soldiers   who   were    there   and 

*  The  2Sth  of  August,  1233, 


EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS.  23 

heard  him,  were  persuaded  to  confess  the  shame  of 
strife  and  the  beauty  of  love  among  men.  That 
his  words,  however  received,  might  not  be  forgot- 
ten, Giovanni  proclaimed  a  universal  treaty,  com- 
prehending all  the  chief  cities  of  the  north,  which 
was  accepted  with  solemn  pledges  by  their  people 
gathered  around  him.     He,  a  Happy  Warrior, 

"  Doomed  to  go  in  company  with  Pain, 
And  Fear  and  Bloodshed,  miserable  train! 
Turns  his  necessity  to  glorious  gain." 

The  spirit  of  war  and  wrong  seemed  to  be  suc- 
cessively exorcised;  but  it  was  only  for  a  day, 
that  the  shadow  of  peace  rested  upon  Italy. 

There  are  different  accounts,  touching  the  re- 
maining years  of  Giovanni's  life,  and  it  would  be 
to  no  purpose  for  us  to  follow  them  in  detail.  Of 
one  thing,  however,  there  can  be  no  doubt,  that, 
the  reformer  proving  unequal  to  his  promises,  his 
reforms  were  unenduring.  To  the  great  rise  there 
succeeded  a  great  fall.  GioA^anni  became  pos- 
sessed of  supreme  authority  in  Vicenza  and  Ve- 
rona, but  instead  of  using  it  to  the  people's  good, 
he  grew  lightheaded,  and  abused  it,  as  we  would 
fain  think  ignorantly,  to  the  people's  harm.  The 
Paduans,  who  bore  him  some  grudge,  not  only 
excited  Yicenza  to  throw  off  his  authority,  but 
sent  out  troops  against  him,  by  whom  he  was 
taken  and  imprisoned.  At  the  pope's  entreaty, 
he  was  soon  released,  but  we  do  not  again  meet 
his  name  in  history,  except  in  a  few  old  chroni- 


24  EARLY   ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

cles,  that  recount  some  missions,  partly  of  peace 
and  partly  of  church-persecution,  in  which  he  was 
employed  by  several  successive  popes,  whose  trust 
in  him  seems  never  to  have  been  shaken.  With- 
out forgetting  that  it  would  be  great  simplicity  in 
us  to  believe  all  simplicity  in  others  true,*  there 
is  great  temptation  to  declare  that  the  errors  of 
Giovanni  di  Vicenza  have  been  cruelly  exagger- 
ated, and  that  he  was  honest  and  eloquent  in  pur- 
poses, he  lacked  wisdom  and  even  perseverance  to 
fulfil.  The  hopes  he  had  aroused,  were  chilled 
and  stupified  by  his  fall. 


IV. 


Jacopo  de'  Bussolari  is  to  be  sought  in  Pavia, 
laboring  there  in  love  of  country,  towards  the  mid- 
dle of  the  fourteenth  century.  The  popes,  who  still 
pretended  to  be  Italy's  protectors,  were  living  in 
what  the  Italians  called  their  Babylonian  exile  at 
Avignon,  black  with  debauchery  and  bigotry. 
The  free  •governments  of  the  Italian  cities  were 
mostly  ruined  by  usurping  lords,  Sig?iori,  who 
dreaded  the  people  as  much  as  the  people  hated 
them.     Some  faithful  defence  was  made  for  lib- 


*  La  piu  grande  di  tutte  le  scmpllcita  ^  credere  che  con  la  sempli- 
cita  noa  vi  possa  essere  falsiti. — Bulla. 


EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS.  25 

erty's  sake,  in  Florence  and  in  Genoa ;  but  Pisa, 
Bologna,  Pavia,  and  many  another  were  subdued 
and  bound  to  their  own  shame.  Rienzi  would 
have  restored  the  old  glory  of  Rome,  (1347,)  but 
he  was  neither  constant  nor  bold  enough  to  suc- 
ceed, and  although  his  story  is  full  of  attractive 
interest,  it  is  only  magni  noininis  umbra^  a  shade 
rather  than  a  light  upon  dark  times.  Jacopo  de' 
Bussolari  had  a  nobler  heart  and  a  wiser  head 
than  Rienzi ;  but  even  his  earnest  labors  are  no 
more  than  a  promise  of  all  that  might  have  been 
given  to  Italy. 

The  Visconti,  to  whom  most  of  the  northern 
cities  were  submitted,  resolved  to  bring  all  Italy 
beneath  their  dominion.  One  of  the  first  attacks 
they  made  was  upon  the  Beccaria,  nobles,  who 
had  long  governed  Pavia,  as  lieutenants  to  the 
Visconti,  and  who  were  now  allied  with  several 
neighboring  families  to  prevent  any  increase  of 
the  Visconti' s  power.  About  the  same  time  that 
the  siege  of  Pavia  was  began,  (1356,)  Jacopo  de' 
Bussolari,  an  Augustine  monk,  was  called  from 
the  seclusion  in  which  his  youth  and  manhood 
had  been  spent,  and  ordered  by  his  superiors  to 
preach  among  the  Pavians,  then  a  corrupt,  feeble, 
and  divided  people,  whose  evil-minded  masters 
were  the  Beccaria.  Jacopo  was  eloquent  and  en- 
thusiastic, or  he  would  not  have  been  chosen  for 
such  a  mission.  He  soon  proved  the  strength  of 
his  mind  and  the  piety  of  his  heart.     The  chief 


26  EARLY   ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

members  of  the  ruling  family  came  to  hear  him, 
when  their  example  had  been  anticipated  by- 
crowds  of  the  common  people.  The  friar  spoke 
against  the  vices  and  diversions  of  the  city ; 
urging  upon  all  who  heard  him  the  love  of  free- 
dom and  the  love  of  comitry,  which  lead  to  or 
spring  from  the  love  of  religion.  His  energies 
were  not  confined  to  his  convent-life,  nor  yet  to 
his  pulpit-preachings,  but  throughout  the  siege 
which  Pavia  was  with  difficulty  bearing,  Jacopo 
was  in  the  people's  midst,  their  leader  and  their 
comisellor.  The  Beccaria  began  to  fear  his  bold 
enthusiasm,  and  would  have  privately  assassi- 
nated him,  had  he  not  been  protected  by  well- 
armed  citizens,  who  henceforth  kept  close  to  him 
as  his  guards.  It  was  then  Jacopo' s  turn  to  fear 
the  Beccaria,  and  to  get  them  out  of  the  way  :  so, 
at  his  call,  the  people  rose  against  their  lords,  and 
drove  them  from  the  city  they  had  ruled,  "  as 
with  a  spell,"  now  broken.  The  Yisconti  were 
put  m  possession  of  all  the  fortresses  commanding 
the  Pavian  territory,  and  the  siege  of  the  city 
itself  was  pressed  with  fresh  resolution.  But 
the  citizens,  within. 

More  brave  for  this,  that  they  had  much  to  love, 

found  new  hope  in  the  freedom  they  had  suddenly 
won.  The  castle,  in  which  their  tyrants  had  been 
secure,  was  destroyed,  and,  as  if  from  its  ruins, 
were  built  up  good  works  of  government  and  pro- 
tection.    The  city  Avails  were  more  strongly  de- 


EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS.  27 

fended  than  ever,  and  wlien  the  Yisconti  made 
peace  with  the  lords,  to  whom  the  Beccaria  family- 
had  been  alhed,  they  made  peace  also  with  the 
magistrates  of  Pavia,  acknowledging  the  free  in- 
stitutions which  Jacopo  de'  Bussolari  had  led  the 
people  m  establishing.      Pavia  was  a  changed 
place,  not  only  in  government  but  in  society.     In- 
stead of  the  quarrelsome,   riotous  citizens,   who 
had  abandoned  virtue  when  they  abandoned  inde- 
pendence, years  before,  there  was  now  a  devout 
and  peaceful  people,  whose  lives  were  examples 
unto  all  their  countrymen.    But  neither  this  peace 
nor  this  devotion  was  to  last  long.     The  Visconti 
hankered  after  the  city  so  near  their  own  Milan, 
and  freed  now  from  other  enemies,  they  turned 
their  arms  once  more  against  Pavia,  three  years 
later  than  the  first  siege,  (1359.)     The  Pavians 
were  true  to  themselves  and  to  their  friar  Jacopo. 
They  renounced  luxury  and  indolence  to  devote 
wealth   and   energy   to   defend    their   threatened 
homes ;  but  miprotected  without  the  walls,  they 
could  scarcely  prolong  their  defence  from  within. 
While  the  Visconti's  forces  were  every  day  in- 
creased, and  the  attacks  they  made  were  every 
day  more  resolute,  an  epidemic  disease  broke  out 
among  the  Pavians,  making  resistance  altogether 
hopeless.      Jacopo  de'    Bussolari,  who   had  ani- 
mated his   people  in   many  combats,   sustained 
them  in  their  last  defeat,  and  obtained  from  the 
conquerors  a  promise  of  protection  to  the  govern- 


28  EARLY   ITALIAN    REFORMERS. 

merit  and  of  amnesty  to  the  people.  The  city  was 
forthwith  surrendered,  and  as  the  Visconti's  prom- 
ises were  forthwith  broken,  Pavia  was  not  only 
conquered  but  utterly  ruined.  Its  dearly  valued 
laws  were  torn  down,  and  a  new  fortress  was 
built  up  for  foreign  lords  to  occupy.  The  best 
citizens  were  punished  for  their  brief  indepen- 
dence, by  death  or  exile,  and  he  who  was  first 
among  them  all,  who  had  made  no  conditions  for 
himself,  when  his  people  were  subdued,  was 
taken  to  Milan,  and  soon  after  thrown  into  a  con- 
vent-dungeon at  Verceil,  where  he  died.  But 
such  a  story  as  that  of  Jacopo  de'  Bussolari, 
however  briefly  told,  is  "glory,  permanent  and 
bright,"  to  the  land  which  gave  him  birth,  and  to 
which  he  unhesitatingly  gave  his  life  in  return. 


V. 


Such  were  these  three  reformers,  who  labored 
single-handed  and  died  undefended,  as  the  ages, 
to  which  they  belonged,  required.  It  was  not 
that  they  tried  too  much  or  too  little ;  that  their 
purposes  were  different  and  their  examples  separ- 
ated by  time  ;  but  that  the  thoughts  of  their  hearts 
could  never  be  the  works  of  their  hands,  so  long 
as  they  thought  and  worked  alone.     No  marvel, 


EARLY    ITALIAN    REFORMERS.  29 

indeed,  that  men  doubted  them  and  abandoned 
them ;  no  greater  marvel  that  there  were  some 
who  loved  and  believed  them  to  be  true.  But  in 
doubt  or  love,  in  weal  or  woe,  their  names,  such 
as  we  have  read,  can  never  be  "  dead  nor  improfi- 
table,"  while  the  stars  shine  above,  and  the  world 
beneath  them  moves  on.  E  pur  si  muove,  and  it 
moves  still !  as  Galileo  declared  at  the  very  mo- 
ment of  his  own  dishonor.  The  memories  of 
Arnaldo  da  Brescia  and  Jacopo  de'  Bussolari,  if 
men  be  not  ungrateful,  will 

"  but  augment  the  deep  and  sweeping  thoughts 
Which  overpower  all  others,  and  conduct 
The  world  at  last  to  freedom." 

One  of  the  clearest  lessons  taught  by  History  is, 
that  there  can  be  no  SLich  thing  as  failure  in  great 
purposes.  So  long  as  truth  and  charity  are  joined 
together  in  human  lives,  there  need  be  no  fear  for 
toil  wasted  or  faith  sacrificed.  It  is  when  truth 
is  degraded  to  union  with  coarseness  and  violence, 
when  confidence  struggles  into  impatience  and 
intolerance,  that  there  can  be  no  great  purposes 
planned,  no  great  deeds  worked  by  men. 


JOHN  DE    WYCLIFFE. 


1324-1384. 


As  it  is  wryten  in  the  book  of  the  wordes  of  Isaye  the  profete, 
the  voyes  of  a  cryer  in  desert,  make  ye  redy  the  waye  of  the  Lord, 
make  ye  His  pathes  right. —  Wycliffe^s  Translation. 


And  yet  in  prizing  justly  the  indispensable  blessings  of  the  New, 
let  us  not  be  unjust  to  the  Old. —  Carlyle.     [Hero-  Worship.'l 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE 


I. 


A  GREAT  man,  like  John  de  WyclifFe,  speaks  and 
acts  in  harmony  with  his  own  times ;  something, 
therefore,  of  them  must  be  known,  if  we  would 
know  anything  of  him.  Not  even  the  Poet,  he 
whose  language  is  most  universal,  can  be  compre- 
hended, unless  to  the  reading  of  his  poetry  be 
added  the  reading  of  a  little  history.  The  secret 
of  all  labor  is  two-fold  :  inspiration,  thought,  will, 
comes  from  heaven ;  sympathy,  help,  endurance, 
must  be  found  on  earth.  God  gives  His  blessing 
to  man  by  joining  together  divine  and  human  aid. 
"  A  host  in  himself,"  is  literally  a  true  saying 
about  all  great  men ;  but  just  as  the  Great  Cap- 
tain does  not  fight  his  battles  alone,  so  the  Great 
Reformer  does  not  do  his  work  without  some 
assistance,  some  influence  from  things  and  men 
that  are  about  him  in  the  world.     It  will  not  be 

3 


34  JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE. 

amiss  for  us  to  grope  our  way  through  some  intri- 
cacies of  the  fourteenth  century,  before  walking 
side  by  side  with  Wycliffe  through  his  long 
career.  The  chief  interests  with  which  we  are 
now  concerned  are  to  be  sought  in  Wycliffe' s  own 
country. 

Edward  the  Third  of  England,  a  young  and 
magnificent  king,  once  summoned  all  the  knights 
of  Northern  Europe  to  a  tournament  at  Windsor. 
He  had  taken  to  himself  the  disputed  title  of  King 
of  France,  and  was  determined  to  maintain  it  by 
strength  of  arms  and  abundance  of  shows.  Chival- 
ry, in  his  early  reign,  was  like  a  great  fire,  to  which 
all  men  were  bringing  fuel,  though  most  among 
them  were  sadly  scorched  by  its  blaze.  The 
many  vices  and  the  few  virtues,  of  which  chivalry 
was  composed,  were  spread  through  England,  as 
through  Europe,  and  it  was  a  chivalrous  festival  for 
the  chivalrous  order  of  the  Garter,  which  King 
Edward  announced  at  Windsor.  The  commonest 
thing  then,  was,  that  every  knight  should  adore 
some  lady  more  particularly  than  any  other,  and 
Edward  professed  to  be  in  love  with  the  Countess 
of  Salisbury.*  Once  in  a  ball-room  at  Court,  this 
fair  Countess  dropped  a  garter,  and  when  the 
king,   himself  stooping  to   take  it  up,    saw  that 


*  There  is  a  charming  story  about  the  beginning  of  his  love,  in 
the  77th  chap,  of  Froissart's  Chronicles. 


JOHN   BE   WYCLIFFE.  36 

those  near  him  were  smiling,  he  said  good-hu- 
moredly,  Honi  soit  qui  Trial  y  pense,  and  pleased 
with  his  own  gallantry,  he  declared  that  those 
words  and  that  garter  should  form  his  and  his 
knights'  device.  The  order  of  the  Garter,  still 
the  great  distinction  of  the  English  nobility,  was 
forthwith  established  at  Windsor,  the  royal  resi- 
dence, whose  luxuries  were  then  beyond  any  that 
had  been  seen  there  before.  Among  many  things 
there  was  a  table,  reported  to  be  two  hundred  feet 
in  diameter,  heaped  up  daily  with  meat  and 
drink  for  all  common  courtiers.  Knights,  of 
names  no  longer  remembered,  and  dames,  of 
beauty  yet  imaged  m  the  faces  of  English  wo- 
men, came  to  Edward's  festival,  with  squires, 
citizens,  and  even  country  folk,  to  see  and  share 
long  days  of  rejoicing.  The  tournament  was  the 
favorite  expression  of  feudal  spirit,  and  to  the 
lance's  point,  we  may  say,  were  gathered  all  the 
extravagances  of  dress  and  adventure  which 
marked  the  feudal  age.  An  old  monk  has  left  us 
a  sketch  of  costumes,  which  may  stand  as  a  sketch 
of  all  festival  doings.  There  were  "  diverse  shapes 
and  disguisings  of  clothing,  now  long,  now  large, 
now  wide,  now  strait, — and  every  day  clothing 
new  and  destitute  and  divest  of  all  honesty  of 
array  or  good  usages — all  so  nagged  and  knib  on 
every  side,  and  all  so  shattered  and  also  buttoned, 
that  they  seemed  more  like  to  tormentors  in  their 
clothing,  and  also  in  their  shoeing  and  other  array, 


36  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

than  they  seemed  to  be  Hke  men."*  It  was  a  time 
when  not  only  knights  errant  but  dames  errant, 
armed  with  spears  and  poniards,  were  wandering 
about  England.  All  society  was  full  of  shows 
and  confusions  and  wrongs.  The  armor  which 
men  wore  was  an  emblem  of  their  lives,  glittering, 
heavy  and  hollow-hearted.  Man's  highest  tri- 
umph was  fixed  in  tourneys  and  intrigues ;  and 
woman  followed,  seeking  nothing  worthier  for  her- 
self than  that  man  should  live  or  die  as  she  smiled 
or  frowned.  Chaucer,  a  boy  still  when  the  Garter 
festival  happened  at  Windsor,  gives  in  few  lines 
(in  the  Knightes  Tale)  the  whole  spirit  of  such 
scenes  where  bloodshed  seems  to  us  to  have  tri- 
umphed over  honor,  and  ferocity  to  have  over- 
come the  gentle  charities  of  human  hearts. 

We  need  not  follow  Edward  closely  in  his 
French  wars,  although  it  is  well  to  remember 
their  events  as  happening  in  the  time  of  Wycliffe's 
youth.  The  battle  of  Crecy  gained  by  the  Eng- 
lish over  the  French  king  Philip,  was  one  for 
which  no  enthusiasm  could,  in  feudal  days,  be 
unseemly.  The  feats  of  arms  done  in  France 
were  brave  stories  for  chronicler  or  minstrel ;  yet 
Edward's   court  at  home   was  always   splendid 

*  It  was  not  a  bad  rhyme  that  ran  among  the  Scots : 

"  Long  beirds  herliless, 
Peynted  hoods  witless, 
Gay  cotes  graceless, 
Makcth  Eiiirluudo  thriftless." 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  37 

as  his  camp  abroad.     The  nobles  of  all  England 
and  of  the  large  part  of  France,  then  in  his  pos- 
session, were  gathered  round  the  throne  of  the 
English  king.     Every  year  seemed  to  set  new- 
jewels  in  Edward's  crown,  and  he  wore  it  so 
well,  that  we  need  not  be  amazed,  if  men  were 
dazzled  and  subdued.     The  English  people  trust- 
ed in  their  king,  not  only  as  their  chieftain  but 
their  protector.    Edward's  heart  was  really  large, 
and  if  he  gave  much  love  to  glory  in  war,  he  had 
some  to  give  to  glory  in  peace.     The  name  of  his 
son  the  Black  Prince,  is  ever  chivalrous  in  his- 
tory :  "  Sweet  son,"  said  his  father  to  him  on  the 
Crecy  battle-field,  "  Sweet  son,  God  give  you  good 
perseverance ;  you  are  my  son,  for   most  loyally 
have   you  acquitted   yourself  this  day ;  you  are 
worthy  to  be  a  sovereign."     The  son  was  then 
fifteen,  and  the  father  but  thirty-three  years  old. 
Edward's  queen,   Philippa,  was  a  noble-hearted 
woman,  true   to  honor  and  to  mercy.     She  was 
with  the  English  army  when  Calais  surrendered, 
and  it  was  she,    as  we  still  love  to  read,  who 
pleaded  for  the  lives  of  six  brave-hearted  burghers, 
brought  barefoot  and  haltered,  to  be  slain  for  the 
defence  they  had  made  of  their  homes.     Edward 
the  Third  was  more  inclined  to  compassion  than 
most  kings  or  most  knights  in  those  feudal  days, 
and  the  brilliancy  of  his  reign  is  not  like  a  dia- 
mond set  in  rusted  iron.     His  royal  power  was 
well  nigh  absolute,  but  it  was  used  to  the  good  as 


38  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

often  as  to  the  harm  of  his  subjects,  and  to  say 
this,  is,  according  to  the  circumstances  of  his  times, 
to  say  that  he  was  a  right-minded  and  popular 
monarch.  Many  of  the  older  feudal  troubles 
were  cleared  away  during  the  half  century  of  his 
dominion ;  new  provisions  were  made  by  him  for 
the  exercise  of  justice  ;  and  the  frequency  of  his 
parliaments  is  proof  enough,  in  itself,  that  although 
he  did  much  according  to  his  own  Avill,  he  was 
still  ready  to  consult  other  wills  than  his  in  gov- 
ernmg  his  kingdom.  Edward's  reign  was  a 
national  one ;  his  victories  abroad  and  his  mag- 
nificence at  home  were  the  pride  of  Englishmen. 
Even  the  lower  classes,  with  all  their  miseries,  were 
able  to  share  in  his  harvest-times.  He  took  from 
amongst  them  his  soldiers  and  his  dashing  archers, 
and  their  ''sinewy  arms,"  their  cheerful  spirits, 
did  him  good  service  both  in  wars  and  festivals. 
The  pages  he  fills  in  history,  as  chief  among  a 
growing  people,  are  glowing  with  animation  and 
renown ;  and  although  we  are  not  to  call  him  a 
great  man,  because  he  was  a  gallant  knight,  we 
need  not  fear  to  recognize  Edward  the  Third  as, 
for  his  years,  a  good  English  king. 

There  came  a  check  to  tournaments  and  to 
wars,  when  the  great  pestilence  of  1348-9  fell, 
like  a  thunderbolt,  upon  the  court  and  armies  and 
people  of  England.  Many  old  accounts  are  still 
left  of  the  violence  with  which  it  spread  from  one 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  39 

country  to  another,  "soe  wasting  the  worlde  that 
not  a  third  part  of  mankind  hath  survived."  The 
mortahty  was  naturally  greatest  amongst  the 
poor,  who  died  by  hundreds  and  thousands  in 
close  dwellings,  which  were  like  hotbeds  of  rank 
and  fatal  disease.*  But  mortality  was  less  an 
evil  than  the  utter  annihilation  of  all  natural  and 
moral  affections  which  was  brought  about  by  the 
long  continuing  pestilence.  We  can  read  of  sons 
forsaking  their  fathers,  mothers  flying  from  their 
children,  friends  smidered,  crimes  done  in  open 
day,  defiance  of  man  and  of  God, — and,  after  all, 
believe  that  death  was  better  than  such  life  as 
remamed  when  the  plague  had  passed  away. 
The  contrast  between  this  and  the  Windsor  festi- 
val is  a  fearful  illustration  of  the  separation  be- 
tween the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  barons  and  the 
peasants  of  England.  The  people  proper  were 
divided  into  citizens  who  had  something,  and 
laborers  who  had  nothing.  The  peasant  had  long 
been  articled  as  a  villein,  or  live-stock  [pecunia 
viva]  or  even  nothing  more  than  land-raiment 
[terrse  vestitus],  and  in  either  of  these  conditions, 
belonged  to  an  estate,  just  as  if  he  had  been  a  tree 
to  be  cut  or  a  sod  of  turf  to  be  trampled  down. 
Edward  the  Third's  reign  was  also  national  in 

*  Within  six  months,  sixty  thousand  died  of  the  Plague  in  Lon- 
don alone,  and  a  new  cemetery  of  sixteen  acres  opened  without  the 
town  was  filled,  for  some  time,  at  the  rate  of  six  hundred  corpses 
daily. 


40  JOHN    DE   WYCLIFFE. 

this,  that  it  was  distinguished  by  the  earUest 
enfranchisement  of  villeins,  that  is,  of  peasants 
enslaved.  Just  after  the  pestilence,  when  the 
number  of  laborers  was  very  greatly  diminished, 
are  seen  the  first  signs  of  relief  coming  to  the 
poor.  Wages  rose,  employment  increased,  la- 
bor, more  needed,  was  also  more  respected,  and 
the  working  people  were  then  and  thus  set  free 
from  some  of  the  burdens  they  had  hitherto  been 
forced  to  bear.  But  it  is  to  be  remembered,  all 
through  Wycliffe's  life,  that  the  character  and 
condition  of  the  lower  classes  were  but  very 
slowly  improving,  and  that  both  were  low  enough, 
for  long  after  this  period.  The  "  outlandish  folk," 
as  they  were  named,  were  like  another  race  to 
the  barons  and  even  to  the  higher  citizens.  How 
they  fared  generally,  may  be  better  understood  in 
hearing  Froissart's  story*  of  the  sack  of  Limoges, 
a  French  city,  which  had  rejected  the  authority 
of  the  Black  Prince,  in  whose  provinces  it  was 
situated,  and  as  the  historian  says,  "  become 
French"  again.  The  Prince  was  bitterly  in- 
censed against  the  Bishop  of  Limoges,  "  in  whom 
he  used  to  place  great  confidence,"  and  against 
the  towns-people  all,  swearing  that  they  should 
pay  dearly  for  their  sedition.  To  march  upon 
the  city,  besiege  and  win  it  back,  was  the  work 
of  little  time ;  and  "  you  would  then  have  seen 


*  In  his  Chronicles,  Chap.  CCXC.   Vol.  I. 


JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE.  41 

pillagers  active  to  do  mischief,  running  through 
the  town,  slaying  men,  women  and  children, 
according  to  their  orders.  It  was  a  most  melan- 
choly business,  for  all  ranks,  ages  and  sexes  cast 
themselves  on  their  knees  before  the  prince,  beg- 
ging for  mercy;  but  he  was  so  inflamed  with 
passion  and  revenge,  that  he  listened  to  none,  but 
all  were  put  to  the  sword,  wherever  they  could 
be  found,  even  those  who  were  not  guilty  :  for  I 
know  not,"  even  old  chivalrous  Froissart  con- 
fesses it,  "  I  know  not  why  the  poor  were  not 
spared,  who  could  not  have  had  any  part  in  this 
treason  ;  but  they  suffered  for  it,  and  indeed  more 
than  those  who  had  been  the  leaders  of  the 
treachery.  There  was  not  that  day  in  the  city  of 
Limoges  any  heart  so  hardened,  or  that  had  any 
sense  of  religion,  who  did  not  deeply  bewail  the 
unfortunate  events  passing  before  their  eyes,  for 
upwards  of  three  thousand  men,  women  and 
children  were  put  to  death  that  day.  God  have 
mercy  on  their  souls  !  for  they  were  veritable 
martyrs."  This  is  a  long  story,  but  it  must  be 
made  even  a  little  longer.  In  the  same  city  of 
Limoges,  and  at  the  same  time,  were  fourscore 
French  knights  and  squires,  all  but  three  of  whom 
were  slain  or  made  prisoners.  These  three  de- 
fended themselves  with  gallant  spirit  to  the  last, 
"  and  ill  did  it  betide  those,"  so  Froissart  con- 
tinues, "  who  approached  too  near.  The  prince, 
coming  that  way  in  his  carriage,  looked  on  the 


42  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

combat  with  great  pleasure,  and  enjoyed  it  so 
much,  that  his  heart  was  softened  and  his  anger 
appeased.  After  the  combat  had  lasted  a  consid- 
erable time,  the  Frenchmen,  with  one  accord, 
viewing  their  swords,  said,  'my  lords,  we  are 
yours :  you  have  vanquished  us  :  therefore  act 
according  to  the  law  of  arms.'  "  And  the  knights 
were  saved,  just  when  the  poor  people  of  Limoges 
had  been  destroyed.  It  was  well  that  bravery, 
even  bravery  in  battle,  should  be  so  honored,  but 
it  was  the  more  ill  that  helpless  wretchedness 
should  be  so  cruelly  abused;  yet  such  was  the 
custom  of  the  times,  turning  to  the  strong  man's 
profit  and  the  poor  man's  loss.  The  whole  country 
of  England  was  at  the  mercy  of  a  stout-armed 
baron.  One  singular  law,  that  the  highways 
should  be  cleared  of  wood  and  underbrush  for  two 
hundred  feet  on  either  side,  in  order  to  break  up 
the  ambushes  which  were  laid  every  day  against 
the  unarmed  walker  or  rider,  is  proof  of  the 
troubled  lives  which  men  Avere  obliged  to  lead. 
The  knight  had  his  castle  and  his  retainers,  and 
was  strong  against  any  common  foe;  but  the 
peasant's  hut  was  unbarred,  the  peasant's  wife 
could  scarcely  be  called  his  own,  and  the  little  he 
had  was  often  taken  away.  The  upper  citizens 
were  more  secure  and  far  more  important.  Eng- 
lish cpmmerce  was  yearly  extending  itself,  and 
the  intercourse  which  was  especially  mamtained 
with  Flanders,  contributed  to  increase  not  only 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  43 

the  wealth  but  the  free  spirit  of  Enghslimen. 
Edward,  the  king,  was  known  abroad  by  the 
name  of  "  the  Wool  Merchant,"  because  his 
revenues  were  chiefly  derived  from  taxes  upon 
Avool,  the  great  staple  of  his  kingdom.  Matthew 
of  Westminster,  a  chronicler  of  these  times,  says 
that  all  the  world  was  clothed  in  wool,  grown  in 
England  and  manufactured  in  Flanders.*  The 
English  merchant,  possessed  of  largest  property, 
was  allowed  by  statutef  to  clothe  himself  as 
luxuriantly  as  any  noble  in  the  land.  This  seems 
insignificant  now,  but  it  was  a  nearer  approach 
to  equality  among  different  classes  than  had  been 
made  in  those  days.  Chaucer  again  comes  to  our 
aid  in  his  description  of  a  Franklin,  as  we  should 
call  him,  a  Country  Squire  : 

An  housholder,  and  thai  a  grete  was  he ; 

Seint  Julian  he  was  in  his  contree. 

His  brede,  his  ale  was  always  after  on  [one]  ; 

A  better  envyned  [wine-stocked]  was  no  where  non. 

Withouten  bake  mete  never  was  his  hous 

Offish  and  flesh,  and  that  so  plenteous, 

It  snowed  in  his  house  of  mete  and  drinke 

Of  alle  deintees  that  men  coud  of  thinke. 

:t:  Tt:  i^  ^  ^ 

His  table,  dormant  [fixed]  in  his  halle  alway 
Stode  redy  covered  alle  the  longe  day.t 


*  Tibi  per  orbem  benedixerunt  omnium  latera  nationum  de  tuis 
ovium  velleribus  calefacta. 

t  37  Edward  III.;  that  is,  in  the  year  1364. 

*  The  sketch  is  longer  in  the  Prologue  to  the  Canterbury  Tales. 


44  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE, 

This  is  a  jolly  sketch,  and  makes  one  believe  that 
the  "good  beef"  and  "good  mutton"  of  Ed- 
ward's reign  were  substantial  comforts.  Some 
energy  of  spirit  existed  among  the  better  people, 
in  spite  of  the  untoward  circumstances  by  which 
they  were  bound.  There  is  a  story  belonging  to 
a  little  later  period,  about  John  Philpot,  "  a  wor- 
shipful citizen  of  London,"  that  he  equipped  a 
fleet  at  his  own  expense  and  went  out  in  pursuit 
of  some  pirates,  Scotch,  French  and  Spanish,  who 
had  done  great  damage  along  the  coast  of  Eng- 
land. He  beat  them  in  fair  fight,  took  back  their 
booty  from  them,  and  sailed  home  again,  to  be 
brow-beaten  himself,  and  threatened  by  the  King's 
Council,  for  having  dared  to  go  upon  so  brave  an 
adventure  without  authority.  But  the  London 
citizens  supported  Philpot  with  all  their  strength, 
and  he  triumphed  over  the  government,  just  as  he 
had  triumphed  over  the  pirates  before.  This 
happened,  however,  after  Edward's  death,  or 
John  Philpot  would  never  have  been  threatened 
and  abused  for  his  brave  doings. 

All  this  time,  parliament  was  laying  taxes,  and 
doing  little  besides,  because  it  possessed,  in  fact, 
very  little  power.  The  House  of  Lords  was  the 
king's  Great  Council,  and  to  this  fell  the  chief 
share  in  the  government  in  England.  The  Com- 
mons were  weak  and  ignorant,  both  in  theory 
and  in  practice  of  legislation,  and  such  few 
privileges   as   they   possessed,    were  but  poorly 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  45 

maintained.*  It  was  forty  or  fifty  years  after 
the  Windsor  festival,  and  the  story  is  more  illus- 
trative of  Richard's  than  Edward's  reign,  that  a 
commoner,  named  Thomas  Haxey,  brought  in  a 
bill  to  control  the  expenses  of  the  royal  household. 
Richard  the  Second,  Edward's  grandson,  was 
then  king  of  England,  and  he,  wild  by  nature, 
instantly  demanded  that  not  only  the  bill,  but  the 
person  of  Haxey  should  be  surrendered  to  his 
pleasure;  and  the  Commons  yielded  both,  with- 
out even  a  pretence  of  resistance.  Poor  Haxey, 
condemned  to  die,  was  only  saved  by  the  united 
intercession  of  the  Commons  and  the  clergy  ;  but 
even  as  the  matter  ended,  it  was  to  the  loss  of 
parliamentary  privileges,  at  least  during  Richard's 
reign.  Edward,  more  generous  and  more  wise, 
gave  much  greater  encouragement  to  the  liberty 
of  his  people,  and  we  shall  have  frequent  occasion 
to  remark  the  connection  between  WyclifFe's  re- 
forms and  parliament-laws.  Edward  yielded  to 
the  spirit  which  prevailed  about  him,  and  obedi- 
dence  to  him  was  obedience  to  national  principles. 
Richard,  his  successor,  set  himself  against  the 
same  current  of  progress,  and  was  finally  swept 
away,  himself,  after  years  of  abject  tyranny. 
Wycliffe  was  bold,  far-sighted  and  persevering, 
yet  he  neither  denied  the  monarchy  which  he 
found  above  him,  nor  sought  to  make  a  republic 

*  See  Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  Chap.  viii.  Part  3. 


46  JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE. 

with  the  people  he  found  far  below  him.  Perhaps 
the  reason  of  what  seems  his  submission,  or  his 
forgetfulness,  is  already  clear ;  perhaps  a  few 
words  more  in  explanation  of  Wycliffe's  purposes 
will  be  required. 

No  one  can  read  the  briefest  history  of  the  Dark 
Ages,  without  being  struck  by  the  confusion  in 
which  all  elements  of  society  were  for  a  long 
time  mingled.  Great  principles  were  then  strug- 
gling together  for  life  or  death,  and  even  as  one 
prevailed  above  another,  long  ago,  so  are  we 
affected  and  influenced,  to  this  very  day.  What 
we  are  now  has  depended  upon  what  men  were 
in  remoter  times.  One  thing  is  plainly  seen  at 
the  period  to  which  we  are  returned,  —  the  mid- 
dle of  the  fourteenth  century,  —  and  that  is,  the 
strife,  which  was  warm  between  Church  and 
State,  divided  then  just  as  they  are  now,  and 
differently  represented,  only  so  far  as  the  pope  of 
Rome  and  his  hierarchies,  standing  for  the  church, 
were  then  the  single  adversaries  of  kings  and 
emperors,  standing  for  the  state.  Very  many  ques- 
tions follow  close  upon  this  simple  statement,  but 
for  us  they  must  be  reduced  to  one,  and  that  touches 
the  separation,  in  character  and  influence,  which 
existed  between  royal  government  and  church  gov- 
ernment so  far  back  as  the  fourteenth  century. 

The  French  historian  Guizot,  a  calm,  clear- 
headed man,  declares  monarchy  to  be  "  the  in- 


JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE.  47 

stitiition  which  has  chiefly  contributed  to  the  for- 
mation of  modern  society,  to  this  present  fusion 
of  all  social  elements  in  two  great  powers,  the 
government  and  the  people."*  Such  an  opinion 
deserves  contemplation  and  faith.  We,  here, 
looking  upon  monarchy,  royalty,  kingly  power, 
no  matter  what  name  it  bears  or  to  what  degree 
it  may  be  maintained,  think  it  all  unnatural,  op- 
pressive and  wrong.  No  doubt  but  that  it  might 
be  so  to  us,  but  looking  after  it  abroad,  in  other 
countries  and  in  other  years,  we  shall  find,  if  we 
keep  our  eyes  open,  that  without  the  influence 
which  this  much  dreaded  monarchy  has  had  upon 
Europe,  we  should  never  have  become  the  great 
and  growing  people  that  bears  the  name  of 
America.  lys^a  sLrnpLa.ikcl  l9.be  rjicorded,  that 
monarchy  is  a  great  principle,  an  honorable  and 
a^hrisfiari  "principle,  which  has  been  usefully 
and  nobly  developed,  notwithstanding  many  ex- 
travagances and  many  cruelties  which  need  not 
be  alone  remembered.  This  principle  is  the 
sovereignty,  not  of  one  man  so  much  as  of  one 
order,  one  law.  Law  is  king  over  all  men  and  all 
things,  so  Pindar  sang  of  old,  and  whether  it  take 
monarchical  form  as  in  Europe,  or  republican 
form  as  in  America,  it  may  always  be  believed 
to  express  the  power  of  reason,  justice  and  truth. 
Napoleon,    when  he  declared  himself  to  be  the 

*  Civilisation  en  Europe,  Legon  IX. 


48  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

French  people's  "  representative,"  meant  this, 
that  to  him  were  entrusted  their  necessities,  their 
rights  and  their  desires.  As  Emperor,  he  was  the 
centre  of  a  larger  circle  than  his  own  power  or 
his  own  life  described,  one  that  comprehended  the 
life  and  the  power  of  his  "  great  nation."  Carry 
our  thoughts  hack  to  the  middle  ages,  and  we 
discover  that  monarchy  may  be  taken  as  the 
principle  of  unity 'and  of  nationality,  at  the  very 
period,  when  society  was  fullest  of  division  and 
incoherence.  Among  all  the  movements  of  Eng- 
lish history,  backwards  or  forwards,  hitherwards 
or  thitherwards,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  what- 
ever barons  or  clergy  or  people  seem  to  have  been 
doing,  the  king's  power  was  steadily  increasing. 
Nor  is  this  to  be  deplored  as  hostile  to  the  in- 
crease of  liberty.  That  the  wild  barons  were 
civilized,  the  greedy  clergy  purified,  the  poor 
people  strengthened,  that  this  was  done,  was 
through  nothing  on  earth  so  much  as  the  growth 
and  fruitful  action  of  the  English  monarchy. 
It  has  been  necessary  to  say  so  much  as  this, 
in' order  to  explain  Wycliffe  the  reformer's  un- 
willingness to  touch  the  evils  which  were  about 
the  throne  of  England,  at  the  very  time  when  he 
was  striking  fast  and  far  upon  those  which  cov- 
ered over  the  Church  of  Rome.  The  pope's  power 
and  the  English  king's  were  in  direct  opposition. 
Just  as  the  nature  of  royalty  was  temperate, 
national,    and  progressive,  the    nature   of  pope- 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  49 

dom  was  ungovernable,  incongruous  and  retro- 
grade. 

The  Roman  Church  was  itself  aiming  at  mon- 
archy, temporal  as  well  as  spiritual,  but  the  only- 
end  it  could  reach,  Hierocracy,  or  priest  govern- 
ment, was  actually  hostile  to  the  wants  of  much 
distracted  times.  Its  theory  was  beautiful -and 
holy ;  its  authority  was  to  sustain  truth  and  be 
sustained  by  truth ;  its  influence  was  to  quicken 
the  coming  of  justice  and  peace  and  even  liberty. 
Yet  all  this  was  but  a  theory,  and  therefore  a  fail- 
ure. The  ideal  Church  of  Rome  was  one  to  love 
and  believe  ;  alas  !  that  the  real  Church  of  Rome 
was  one  to  fear  and  abandon  utterly.  Earlier 
reformers  labored  to  purify  the  church  at  whose 
altars  they  would  have  still  worshipped;  but 
when  their  labors  were  all  proved  vain,  and  the 
promises  they  had  trusted,  were  again  and  again 
broken,  there  came  later  reformers  who,  not  con- 
tent to  purify,  would  have  destroyed  all  that  had 
been  built  up  in  centuries  of  faith  and  sacrifice 
and  falsehood.  Wycliffe's  place  is  between  the 
earlier  and  the  later.  He  took  up  the  arms  which 
others  before  him  had  laid  down,  and  dealt  some 
stronger  blows  than  Rome  had  ever  borne.  He 
was  neither  the  first,  nor  the  last,  who  attacked 
popedom  in  the  name  of  God  and  Liberty.  Ar- 
naldo  da  Brescia  went  before  him  two  hundred 
years;  Huss,  Savonarola  and  Luther  came  after 
him.    No  single  mind  conceived^  nosingle  arrn  ac- 


50  JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE. 

complished  the  great  work  of  Protestantism,  and 
althbugli  we  give  the  praise  to  Luther,  there  are 
other  souls  than  his  to  which  we  owe  our  redemp- 
tion :  Wychffe  was  one  of  these.  The  course  of 
reform  has  been,  through  all  the  world's  history, 
a  gradual  course  of  human  progress.  As  in  tlie 
Athenian  torch-race,  one  after  another,  bearing  a 
lighted  torch,  has  started  for  the  goal,  yet  among 
all,  none  has  borne  away  the  perfect  prize,  for 
none  has  carried  his  torch  lighted  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end. 

Et  quasi  cursores  vitae  lampada  trahunt ; 

and  each  one  has  left  to  us  some  of  that  light  by 
which  we  walk  in  sight  and  faith. 

So,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  the  Roman 
Church  was  already  proved  unfaithful.  Aban- 
doning its  moral  power,  and  taking  to  worldly 
ventures,  in  which  loss  was  sure,  it  was  soon 
reduced  to  defend  itself  against  the  distrust  and 
the  enmity  it  aroused.  Its  progress  once  checked, 
it  was  turned  back  to  stagnation  and  noxiousness. 
Religion  became,  as  Sismondi*  says,  "an  instru- 
ment which  despots  seized  upon  to  turn  against 
the  people,"  and  in  being  turned  against  the 
people,  it  was  also  turned  against  all  institutions, 
all  elements,  all  interests  in  society.  This  was 
but  the  natural  consequence  of  principles  changed, 

♦  Hist,  des  Ripubliques  Hal.    Tome  iv.  p.  369. 


JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE.  0,1 

of  seeking  after  temporal  rather  than  spiritual 
increase,  of  sacrifice  to  things  of  this  world  rather 
than  devotion  to  hopes  of  Heaven.  Clement 
Sixth,  pope  in  1345,  published  a  bull,  in  which 
he  not  only  set  forth  the  merits  of  pilgrimages  to 
Rome,  but  declaring  that,  if  any  died  upon  the 
way,  their  souls  should  be  instantly  received  in 
Heaven,  he  dared  to  command  the  angels  above 
to  introduce  his  pilgrims'  souls  to  the  glory  of 
Paradise.*  The  iniquity  of  superstition  could 
be  carried  no  further;  and  even  in  Clement's 
own  time,  such  bulls  as  this  were  derided  or 
deplored  by  all  thinking  men.  A  completer  il- 
lustration of  church  practice  and  church  prin- 
ciples, also,  at  that  distant  period,  is  the  story  of 
pope  Celestin  V.,  which  is  worth  repeating  here. 
At  the  close  of  the  thirteenth  century,  some  thirty 
years  before  Wycliffe's  birth,  there  lived  among 
the  Abruzzi  mountains,  a  poor,  fasting,  penance- 
doing  hermit,  Pietro  di  Morona,  whose  life  was 
so  austere,  that  common  people  believed  him 
to  have  been  born  a  full-grown  and  full-dressed 
monk.  This  hermit  was  chosen  pope  by  the 
Roman  Cardinals,  who  were  weary  with  en- 
deavors to  elect  one  among  themselves,  and  were 


*  Prorsus  mandamus  Angelis  Paradisi  quatenus  animam  illius  a 
Purgatorio  penitus  absolutam  in  Paradisi  gloriam  introducant. 
The  scare  the  very  words  of  the  bull,  reported  by  Giannone. — Storia 
Civile  del  Reg-no  di  Napoli,  Lib.  23,  Cap.  8,  §  ii. 


52  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE, 

quite  ready  to  accept  any  new  master  they  could 
hope  to  turn  into  a  servant  to  their  profligate 
hves.  Pietro,  the  hermit,  would  have  fled  when 
he  heard  of  his  election,  but  he  was  taken  to 
Rome  and  forced  to  assume  the  sumptuous  service 
of  his  palace  and  his  church.  Poor  simple-hearted 
man,  beset  by  place-seekers  and  wine-drinkers, 
he  could  not  even  fulfil  the  temporal  claims  of 
popedom,  and  after  five  months'  bewilderment, 
he  gave  up  his  throne  to  Boniface  Eighth,  who 
straightway  seized  Celestin  and  imprisoned  him 
until  he  died.  In  his  fate  Rome  stands  exp^osed, 
full  of  ambition,  worldliiiess  and  crmie. 

The  church  could  not  change  its  place  without 
losing  both  honor  and  dominion.  Its  chains  were 
too  weak,  its  festivals  too  insane,  to  insure  human 
reverence  or  human  love.  There  arose  every- 
where a  spirit  of  hostility  to  the  pretensions  and 
perversions  of  Rome ;  in  France  with  Philip  the 
Fair,  in  Germany  with  Emperor  Lewis  of  Ba- 
varia, in"  England  with  many  deep-feeling  men, 
whose  names,  at  least,  shall,  by  and  by,  be  re- 
peated. Ockham,  England's  "Invincible  Doctor," 
was  foremost  in  sustaining  civil  against  ecclesi- 
astical power,  and  his  promise  to  the  Emperor 
Lewis,  in  whose  service  he  died,  is  still  to  be 
remembered:  "Defend  me  with  your  sword,  and 
I  will  defend  you  with  my  pen."  Nearer  to  Rome 
was  heard  the  voice  of  Dante,  speaking  from  out 
his  tumultuous  soul,  words  at  which  Rome  must 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  53 

have  trembled.*  Wycliffe  came  afterwards,  bolder 
still,  and  dared  to  attack  the  Roman  Church  in 
all  its  strongholds  of  discipline  and  doctrine.  He 
had  a  stern  duty  to  fulfil,  the  duty  of  working 
out  truth  which  other  men  were,  as  yet,  only  able 
to  hear  and  perhaps  to  feel.  He  was  neither 
without  example  nor  without  support,  but  his 
toils  were  lonely  and  uncertain  to  him,  and  to  those 
around  liim.  If  we  have,  now,  any  idea  of  Wy- 
cliffe's  country  and  Wycliffe's  age,  we  shall  be 
better  able  to  understand  Wycliffe's  reforms, 
which  can  never  be  separated  from  the  spirit 
about  him  and  within  him  by  which  they  were 
inspired. 

The  Church's  yoke  was  especially  grievous  to 
England,  where  popedom  had  never  been  fully 
acknowledged,  until  King  John,  terrified  by  bulls 
of  interdict  and  threats  of  invasion,  had  been  base 
enough  to  surrender  his  kingdoms  "  in  Fief  to  the 
Holy  See,"  and  to  promise  an  annual  tribute  of 
a  thousand  marks,  (not  far  from  70,000  dollars.) 
In  Wycliffe's  time,  this  tribute  was  flatly  denied 
by  King  Edward,  who  declared  his  kingdom  to 
be  completely  independent  of  Rome.  To  this 
Edward  was  led,  not  only  by  national  spirit,  which 


Di  oggimai,  che  la  chiesa  di  Roma 
Per  confoiidere  in  se  due  reggimenti 
Cade  nel  fango  e  se  brutla  e  la  soma. — Purg^ 


54  JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE. 

marks  the  greater  part  of  his  reign,  but  by  know- 
ledge of  the  position,  which  the  popes  were  now  oc- 
cupying at  Avignon,  where  they  were  for  seventy 
years  virtually  dependent  upon  the  French  kings, 
all  enemies  to  England.  The  shameful  vices,  by 
which  popes,  cardinals  and  priests  were  living, 
provoked  not  only  England  but  the  whole  Chris- 
tian world.  Clement  Sixth,  the  same  who  claimed 
authority  over  angels,  was  about  as  bad  a  pope  as 
had  ever  been  set  above  the  faithful.  He  said  of 
his  predecessors  that  they  had  never  known  how 
to  be  popes,  and  seemed  determined  to  prove 
his  own  calling  to  meanness,  despotism  and  foul 
depravity.*  Dante  tells  the  whole  story  of  Avig- 
non in  a  single  line  : 

Calcando  i  buoni  e  sollevando  i  pravi.t 

From  out  this  southern  city,  so  full  of  crimes  and 
ignominies,  that  Petrarch  called  it  a  hell  of  living 

*  Le  peuple  et  la  cour  d'Avignon  s'etaient  fait  des  mceurs  de  ce 
qu'on  regardait  comme  des  vices  chezles  aulres  nations. — {Sismondi, 
Hist,  des  Rip.  Ital.  Tome  iv.  p.  366.)  Petrarch's  description 
{Liber  sine  titulo)  is  still  more  rude  :  Ubi  nulla  pietas,  nulla  chari- 
tas,  nulla  fides  habitat, — ubi  tumor,  livor,  luxus,  avaritia  cum  arti- 
bus  suis  regnant,  —  ubi  simplicitas  amentia?,  malilia  sapientiae 
uomen  habit,— ubi  Deus  spernilur,  adoraturnummus,  calcantur  leges, 
irridentur  boni,  usque  adeo,  ut  jam  fere  nullus  qui  irrideri  possit 
appareat.  *  *  *  Nescio,  fateor,  an  illius  impudcntia  an  pa- 
tientia  nostra  sit  turpior.  Bihamus  papaliter,  drinking  papally, 
•was  a  common  saying  with  all  men  inclined  to  extravagance  or 
debauchery. 

+  Or  Milton,  as  briefly: 

"  To  good  malignant,  to  bad  men  benign." 

Par.  Lost,  xii .  533. 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  §5 

men,*  there  swarmed  forth  priests,  hke  stinging 
insects,  to  prey  upon  men,  women  and  children, 
througlioiit  all  Europe.  Incrassati,  impinguati, 
dilatati, — fat,  greasy  and  swollen,  as  Philip  the 
Fair  called  them, — they  covered  England  over, 
sucking  revenues  like  blood,  five  times  greater  (in 
1376)  than  the  revenues  of  the  crown.  The 
priests  and  their  master  the  pope  were  for  having 
a  hand  in  everything,  interfering  with  justice, 
controlling  marriage  vows,  claiming  inheritances, 
and  possessing  all  the  valuable  offices  in  Church 
and  State  that  they  could  lay  hold  on.  Half  the 
kingdom,  says  the  chronicler,  was  in  their  keep- 
ing, and  they,  as  Wycliffe  himself  exclaimed, 
''were  choked  with  the  tallow  of  worldly  goods, 
and  consequently  were  Hypocrites  and  Anti- 
christs." In  the  old  poem,  called  the  Vision  of 
Pierce  Plowman,  which  was  written  at  that  same 
time,  and  especially  directed  against  the  corruptions 
among  the  clergy,  are  these  three  or  four  lines  : 

"  And  now  is  religion  a  ridere,  a  romere  hy  streets, 
A  ledar  of  ladyes,  and  a  lewd  bigere  [beggar] ; 
A  prikere  on  a  palfray  from  maner  to  maner, 
A  hep  of  houudes  after,  as  he  a  lord  were." 

This  is  no  exaggeration,  or  it  would  not  be  fit  for 
our  serious  reading  here.  An  Archbishop  of  York 
was  wont  to  travel  from  one  parish  to  another, 
with   two    hundred    attendants   and   a   pack   of 

*  Scelerum  atque  dedecorum  omnium  senlina  atque  ille  viventium 
infernus. — Epis.  sine  titulo  liber. 


56  JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE. 

hounds.  A  bishop  of  Ely  actually  excommuni- 
cated some  persons  for  having  stolen  one  of  his 
falcons  ;  with  such  a  prelate,  falconry  must  liave 
been  as  much  a  part  of  his  life  as  saying  mass 
or  preaching  a  sermon.*  An  abbot  of  St.  Augus- 
tine had  an  installation-dinner  of  three  thou- 
sand dishes,  which  were  like  a  first  course  to  the 
banquets  and  revelries  which  followed.  A  noble- 
man. Lord  Morley,  who  had  shot  some  game 
in  a  Bishop  of  Norwich's  park,  was  condemned 
to  do  penance  by  walking  "  in  his  waistcoat,  bare- 
head  and  barefoot,  with  a  wax-candle,  weighing 
six  pounds,  lighted  in  his  hand,  through  the  streets 
of  Norwich  to  the  cathedral,  there  to  beg  pardon 
of  the  bishop  in  most  humble  posture  and  with 
most  humble  language."  This,  however,  is  more 
characteristic  of  the  priest  than  the  lord,  for  if  the 
one  were  so  arrogant,  the  other  was  seldom  so 
submissive.  A  quarrel  which  King  Edward  had 
with  one  of  the  Archbishops  of  Canterbury,  also 
chief  minister  to  the  crown, f  whom  the  king 
deprived  both  of  his  state  offices  and  church 
revenues,  is  proof  of  Edward's  independence  in 
matters  ecclesiastical  as  well  as  matters  civil. 
There  is  another  story  which  sounds  more  like  the_ 

*  One  is  reminded  of  a  story  repeated  by  Hallam  (in  his  Mid- 
dle Ages)  that  the  monks  of  St.  Denis  demanded  Charlemagne's 
permission  to  hunt  as  they  pleased,  for  that  the  flesh  of  their  game 
was  good  for  their  sick  friars,  while  the  skins  could  he  used  in 
covering  the  hooks  in  their  library. 

t  John  Stratford,  Archbishop  from  1333  to  13-13. 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE.  67 

preteoGe^  which  Rome  was  making  to  absolute 
power,  that  a  papal  legate,  who  looked  on  quietly 
while  some  prisoners,  taken  in  Avar,  were  exe- 
cuted, yet  started  fiercely  from  his  seat,  when  a 
priest,  convicted  for  great  crime,  was  brought  out 
to  die,  and,  by  threats  and  commands,  actually 
saved  the  priest's  life.  Among  these  church 
swarms  were  several  hundred  thousand  friars, — 
with  whom  we  shall  have  more  to  do  hereafter, — 
who  pretended,  especially,  to  be  servants  of  God 
and  friends  of  the  poor.  But  there  was  no  such 
thing  then  as  friendship  for  the  poor,  excepting 
such  as  a  generous  king  or  a  merciful  baron  or  a 
solitary  priest  might  give  from  a  good  heart.  The 
clergy  sheared  much  oftener  than  they  fed  their 
flocks,  and  men,  generally,  were  wandering,  sep- 
arated, struggling  with  each  other  in  a  wide  and 
changeful  world. 

Europe  was  just  beginning  to  doubt  the  pope  of 
Rome,  England  was  just  beginning  to  rejoice  in 
progress,  abroad  and  at  home,  when  the  great 
pestilence  swept  over  Europe  and  over  England. 
The  misery  it  brought  was  so  cruel,  the  desolation 
it  left  was  so  universal,  that  men  began  to  fear 
either  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand,  or 
that  Satan  was  let  loose  from  the  confinement  in 
which  he  was  supposed  to  have  been  bound  for  a 
thousand  years.  It  was  just  the  time  for  a  great 
reformer  to  speak  out  what  was  in  men's  hearts. 
John  de  Wycliffe,  then  twenty-four  years  old,  was 


S8  JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE. 

a  scholar  at  Oxford,  following  the  quiet  ways  in 
which  scholars  love  to  tread,  apart  from  the  world 
in  daily  habits,  but  not  apart  from  it  in  sympathy 
or  love.  Wycliffe's  soul,  we  doubt  it  not,  shared 
in  the  conflicts  around  him.  He  felt  that  some- 
thing was  to  be  done,  to  be  done,  perhaps  by  him, 
and  even  in  those  dark  days  he  began  to  prepare 
for  the  better  days  which  were  to  come.  Some 
years  of  silence  passed  ;  deep  thought  swelled  to 
lofty  purpose ;  the  time  for  speech  and  action 
came,  and  WyclifFe  lifted  up  his  voice  to  declare  the 
truth  in  which  he  trusted,  and  to  which  he  devoted 
his  strength  and  his  hopes.  The  first  profession 
of  his  purposes  was  made  in  a  work  called  "  The 
Last  Age  of  the  Church,"  published  in  1356.  It 
was  chiefly  to  lament  the  pollution  and  demand 
the  purification  of  the  church  that  Wyclifie  wrote, 
but  in  words  like  his,  there  were  shapes  to  haunt 
popes,  priests  and  men  through  all  their  evil 
doings.  "  The  honors  of  Holy  Church  are  given 
to  unholy  men ;  Priests  do  eat  up  the  people 
as  though  it  were  bread;  men  of  Holy  Church 
shall  be  despised  as  carrion ;  the  pestilent  smiting 
together  of  people  .  .  .  the  last  tribulation  of  the 
Church  .  .  .  the  final  triumph  of  Antichrist,  of 
whose  approach  God  alone  knoweth  the  period  ;"* 

*  Once  for  all,  it  is  needful  to  say  that  the  quotations  which  are 
made  from  VVycliffe's  writings  throughout  this  sketch  of  his  life,  arc 
generally  taken  at  second-hand,  and  chiefly  from  a  work  of  great  in- 
dustry, "The  Life  and  Opinions  of  John  de  Wycliffe,"  &c.  by 
Robert  Vaughan,  published  in  London,  near  twenty  years  ago. 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE.  59 

about  all  these  things,  Wycliffe,  young  and  un- 
known, spoke  as  boldly  as  if  he  had  been  a  grey- 
haired  prophet.  It  is  plain  that  his  faith  in  Rome 
was  already  shaken,  and  his  hopes  from  the 
church  were  already  failing.  Old  Chronicler 
Walsingham,  WyclifFe's  bitter  enemy,  writes  that 
"at  this  time  there  arose,  in  Oxford,  a  tempestuous 
individual"  [quidam  borealis],  who  was  none 
other  than  Wycliffe.  To  such  men  as  Walsing- 
ham, any  reformer  would  have  been  tempestuous, 
but  here  was  one  indeed,  to  fill  priests  "upon  the 
great  deep  "  with  fear.  The  loosely  spread  sails 
of  their  church  would  soon  be  taken  in,  before  the 
storm,  of  which  some  gusty  words  about  a  "  Last 
Age  "  were  the  beginning. 


11. 


John  de  Wycliffe  was  born  in  1324,  three  years 
before  Edward  the  Third  came  to  the  English 
throne.  His  birth-place  was  Wycliffe,  in  the 
north  of  Yorkshire,  where  a  manor-estate,  of  the 
same  name,  is  supposed  to  have  been  possessed  by 
his  family.  Nothing  is  known  about  his  earliest 
years,  and  nothing  can  be  conjectured  about  them 
with  any  certainty,  except  that  he  was  well-born 
and  well-bred.     His  studies,  which  could  have 


60  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

comprehended  little  more  than  grammar,  were 
directed  towards  the  Oxford  University,  where  he 
entered  himself  in  Queen's  College,  at  the  age  of 
sixteen,  (1340.)  Almost  immediately  afterwards, 
he  left  Queen's  for  Merton  College,  and  to  this  he 
seems  to  have  attached  himself  until  he  went  out, 
years  later,  into  the  world. 

There  were  things,  present  and  past,  at  Oxford, 
to  quicken  Wycliffe's  growth  in  body  and  in 
mind.  He  was  brought  into  connection,  not  only 
with  hundreds  and  thousands  of  young  men, 
students  like  himself,  but  with  names  and  char- 
acters never  separated  from  Oxford  even  to  this 
day.  Larger  prospects  were  opened  before  him, 
and  larger  powers  were  expanded  within  him.  He 
was  learning  from  the  Old  how  to  plan,  from  the 
New  how  to  fulfil.  William  Ockham,  who  had 
been  educated,  himself,  at  Merton  College,  died 
in  1347,  when  Wycliffe  was  more  than  old 
enough  to  comprehend  all  the  energy  with  which 
the  Invincible  Doctor  had  combated  the  arbitrary 
and  empty  tendencies  of  philosophy.  Grosseteste, 
of  whom  Wycliffe  constantly  and  reverently  speaks 
as  "■  the  grete  clerke,"  had  also  been  an  Oxford 
scholar.  At  his  death  the  pope  [Innocent  VI.]  ex- 
claimed "that  his  great  enemy  had  departed;" 
for  Grosseteste,  although  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  had 
been  a  most  resolute  adversary  to  the  evils  of 
popedom.  Bradwardine,  from  Oxford  too,  a 
gentle  and  pure  spirited  man,  died  in  1349.    While 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  61 

King  Edward's  confessor,  he  was  twice  elected 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  before  Edward  would 
part  with  him.  He  was  a  priest  after  WyclifFe's 
own  heart.  A  more  famous  prelate  was  Fitzralph, 
Archbishop  of  Armagh,  who  lived  at  the  same 
period.  He  sacrificed  peace,  home  and  life  to 
waging  war  with  hosts  of  friars,  whom  Wycliffe 
was  soon  to  assail.  These  men  were  chief  among 
those  nearest  to  Wycliffe  in  time  and  in  principle, 
and  for  their  examples, 

"  told  in  many  place 
That  they  were  dead  for  love  and  truth," 

came  much  of  that  spirit  with  which  he  was  him- 
self filled.*  Churchmen  were  scholars,  and  schol- 
ars were  churchmen  in  Wycliffe' s  time.  The 
great  employment  of  men's  minds  was  the  scho- 
lastic philosophy,  founded  upon  xiristotle  and  built 
up  by  generation  after  generation,  into  more  fan- 
tastic forms  than  we  can  now  conceive  or  under- 
stand. If  Education  be,  as  Plato  said,  the  art  of 
teaching  men  how  to  rejoice  and  how  to  mourn, 


*  Other  names  may  he  recalled.  RoE;er  Bacon,  the  Wonderful 
Doctor,  who  devoted  his  life  to  the  enlargement  of  science  beyond 
the  frivolous  bounds,  in  which  its  strength  and  fulness  were  wasting 
away,  died  thirty  years  before  VVyclitfe's  birth.  Richard  Middle- 
ton,  the  Solid  Doctor,  was  one  of  the  greatest  theologians  of  his 
limes;  he  died  in  1304.  John  Duns  Scotus  died  in  1308,  when  he 
■was  but  thirty-three  years  old.  His  name,  the  Subtle  Doctor,  de- 
scribes the  character  of  his  mind  and  learning,  yet  he  was  far  more 
serious  in  pursuing  truth  than  most  dialecticians  of  the  Dark  Ages. 
These  three  were  all  Franciscan  friars,  and  all  belonged  to  Oxford. 


62  JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE. 

there  was  very  little  of  it  existing  in  the  Middle 
Ages.     The  learning  of  the  schools  was  centred 
in  the  trivuim  and  the  quadriviwn ;  one  compre- 
hending the  three   greater  sciences  of  grammar, 
rhetoric  and  logic;  the  other  being  made  up  of 
the  four  lesser  sciences  of  music,  arithmetic,  ge- 
ometry and  astronomy.     How  much  of  either  was 
gained,  even  by  the  most  faithful  students,  is  but 
a  sorry  question ;  yet  men  of  learning  wandered 
in   other   paths   more   barren   even    than   these. 
Astrology   and  alchemy  were  favorite   pursuits, 
and  there  is  somewhere  an  account  of  two  or  three 
famous  alchemists,  who  were  imprisoned  by  Ed- 
ward the   Third,   that  they  might  be  forced  to 
labor  for  him.     Everything  was  mystical  and  un- 
settled ;  the  intellectual  character  of  the   whole 
fourteenth  century  may  be  summed  up  in  desires 
to  escape  from   old   methods,  which  hung  like 
fetters  on  science,  poetry  and  art.     Nothing  came 
at  first  from  these  struggles  but  confusion  ;  and 
some  rough  lines  of  an  old  poem  [Pierce  Plowman] 
upon  theology,  belong  to  much  of  the  learning 
which  men  possessed  in  Wycliffe's  days : 

"  And  theologie  hath  tesed  [vexed]  me  ten  score  tymes  ; 
The  more  I  muse  therynne,  the  mystier  it  semylh, 
Aad  the  depper  [deeper]  I  dyvyne,  the  derker  [darker]  me  it 
thynkeih." 

Yet  deep  thought  was  not  always  dark  thought ; 
and  in  the  efforts  which  men  were  making  to- 
wards light  and  understanding,  we  can  see  more 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  63 

to'  admire  than  to  ridicule,  if  we  will.  The  influ- 
ence of  scholasticism  upon  Wycliflfe  is  not  to  be  set 
down  for  the  influence  of  sluggishness.  There 
was  an  onward  and  an  upward  movement  through 
all  the  intellectual  struggles  of  his  times  and  of 
the  times  before  him.  Tlie  universities,  all  through 
Europe,  were  filled  with  students,  striving  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  against  the  foes  of  mind 
and  the  foes  of  heart.  There  was  little  peace  in 
such  lives  as  they  led,  and  many  among  the  old 
as  well  as  among  the  young,  were  only  "varlets 
who  pretended  to  be  scholars."  Wycliffe  went 
through  many  contentions  and  many  toils  for  the 
sake  of  the  principles  in  which  he  believed ;  but 
his  life  was  as  peaceful  as  it  was  possible  for  a 
brave  life  to  be  in  such  up-heaving  times.  He 
was  greatly  distinguished  for  his  scholarship,  and 
an  earnest  enemy  of  his  doctrines  wrote  to  the 
pope,  "I  have  often  stood  amazed  beyond  mea- 
sure at  the  excellence  of  his  learning,  the  boldness 
of  his  declarations,  the  exactness  of  his  authorities, 
and  the  strength  of  his  arguments."*  Wyclifle 
proved  his  learning  by  his  own  continued  labors, 
which  an  uneducated  or  an  un gifted  man  could 
never  even  have  begun.  Another  testimony  is  in 
the  often-quoted  words  of  Knyghton,  who  wrote 
just  after  Wycliife's  death,  with  prejudice  bitter 

*  This  was  Walden,  an  English  monk,  who  marked  himself  by 
active  hostility  to  Wycliffe's  memory,  at  the  Council  of  Constance, 
ia  1415. 


"64  JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE. 

as  gall  against  the  reformer,  and  who  neverthe- 
less compelled  himself  to  acknowledge  that  Wy- 
cliffe  was  "  the  very  most  eminent  Doctor  in  those 
days."*  But  Wycliffe  was  not  content  with  such 
learning  as  belonged  to  other  men.  He  was  able 
to  meet  them  on  their  ground,  but  he  walked 
surely  on  ground  where  they  were  not  able  to 
meet  him.  His  scholarship  was  abundant  and 
charitable,  both  in  doing  good  to  his  countrymen 
and  in  helping  him  forwards  to  the  great  aims  for 
which  he  studied  and  labored  until  he  died.  The 
earth  was  not  then  covered  by  "the  still  air  of 
delightful  studies,"  which  scholars  dream  about, 
as  though  it  were  the  air  of  Heaven.  There  was 
no  deeper  stillness  in  the  studies,  themselves,  or  in 
the  contemplations  that  men  pursued.  The  at- 
mosphere, in  which  Wyclitfe  lived,  was  too  hot 
and  restless  for  him  to  breathe  gently  or  purely, 
and  it  was  from  influences  without,  as  well  as 
from  impulses  within,  that  the  scholar  became  the 
reformer.  But  with  him  "  the  wisdom  of  love" 
had  surely  preceded  "  the  love  of  wisdom." 

There  were  other  bright  lights  about  Wycliffe, 
which  we  may  ourselves  like  to  look  back  upon. 


*  Doctor  in  Theologia  eminentissimus  in  diebus  illis.  In  philoso- 
phia  nulli  reputabalur  secundus,  in  scholasticis  disciplinis  incom- 
parahilis.  Hie  maxiiiie  niteliatur  aliorum  ingenia  siibtililate  sci- 
enliae  et  profundilate  iiigcMiii  sui  transcendoie  et  ab  opinioiiibus 
eorum  variare.  Such  an  eulogy  is  to  be  remembered  in  following 
Wycliffe  furlher. 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE.  65 

The  poet  Gower,  born  but  a  few  years  later,  was 
among  the  first  to  make  morahty  popular  and 
poesy  natural  to  Englishmen.*  Chaucer  was 
young  still,  but  so  kindred  in  many  points  is  his 
spirit  to  the  reformer's,  that  he  is  supposed,  with- 
out other  good  reason,  by  several  biographers,  to 
have  been  one  of  Wycliffe's  disciples.  His  cheer- 
fulness and  tenderness,  his  clear  look  into  the 
troubles  of  his  time,  and  his  clear  voice  in  speak- 
ing of  them,  are  all  like  so  much  sympathy  with 
his  great  countryman.  Such  poetry  as  he  wrote 
in  the  early  morning  of  English  literature,  was  like 
life-waking  sunshine.  The  English  tongue  was 
then  loosened,  and  then  first  employed  in  courts 
and  books.  Its  use  quickened  its  growth,  and  its 
growth  increased  its  use.  Wycliffe,  himself,  did 
much  to  promote  both ;  Gower  set  an  example  in 
his  poems  ;  f  and  in  Chaucer  there  was  opened  a 
whole  "well  of  English  undefiled."  We  cannot 
too  clearly  remember  the  harmony  between  Wy- 
cliffe's mind  and  the  great  spirits  of  his  age. 
All  this  while,  Wycliffe  was  living  at  Oxford, 


*  His  work  was  illustrative  of  the  times.  "  Gower's  book  took 
morality  out  of  the  hands  of  the  monks  .  .  .  and  brought  it  down  to 
the  usual  habits  ...  of  the  world.  ...  He  put  English  poetry 
into  a  better  path  than  it  had  then  visited  ;  he  gave  it  more  imagery, 
dialogue,  sentiment  and  natural  incident,  than  it  had  heen  connected 
with  until  he  wrote." — Turner's  Hist,  of  England,  P?iil  v.,  Chap.  3. 
t  As  he  said, 

"  And  for  that  few  men  endite 
In  our  Englisshe." 
5 


66  JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE. 

Studying  what  was  before  him  in  time  of  medi- 
tation and  resolution,  which  we  will  not  call 
wasted,  because  we  do  not  find  him  in  the  wide 
world.  Crescit  occulto  velut  arbor  sevo.  The 
tree  grows  silent  and  shadeless  to  maturity ;  man 
dwells  alone  before  the  world's  claims  crowd  in 
upon  him;  but  the  aspirations  of  a  true  heart  are 
just  as  sure  as  the  growth  of  a  sturdy  tree.  Wy- 
clifFe  went  about  barefoot,  clothed  in  a  coarse 
russet  robe,  with  serene  expression  on  his  lips, 
and  watchful  seriousness  in  his  eyes.  There 
were  many  around  him,  fellow-scholars  and  fel- 
low-men ;  yet  he  was  scarcely  one  of  them ;  his 
studies  were  calmer  and  his  thoughts  were  deeper 
than  theirs.  It  was  his  life's  spring-time,  and 
the  goodly  reaping  of  riper  years  shows  that  there 
must  have  been  goodly  sowing. 


III.     1356-1376. 


The  words  which  Wycliffe  wrote  upon  the 
Last  Age  of  the  Church,  resounding  throughout 
Europe,  declared  the  coming  of  a  new  enemy  to 
the  corruptions  of  Rome.  He  was  thirty-two 
years  old,  young  to  begin  such  a  work  as  his,  but 
already  prepared  to  labor  for  his  earthly  brethren 
and  his  Heavenly  Father.  He  could  not  have 
known  what  was  before  him,  but  his  purposes 


JOHN   T)E   WYCLIFFE.  67 

would  shape  themselves  gradually,  and  when 
once  plain  to  him,  there  was  nothing  to  turn  him 
from  them.  Such  longings  as  his  lead  to  concep- 
tions too  clear  and  too  earnest  to  be  avoided  or 
abandoned.  It  is  unavailing  to  write,  it  is  una- 
vailing to  read  the  story  of  any  great  man,  unless 
we  seek  to  share  his  "holy  desires,"  his  "good 
counsels,"  and  his  "just  works,"  all,  by  our  own 
inner  sympathy  and  our  own  inner  comprehen- 
sion, apart  from  any  words  we  write  or  any 
words  we  read.  Yet  if  this  be  too  much  to 
claim,  for  Wycliffe's  sake,  we  will  not,  surely, 
in  following  out  his  reforms,  forget  the  spirit  by 
which  they  were  contrived,  the  spirit  of  a  dis- 
turbed and  mystical  age. 

The  Catholic  countries  of  Europe  were  filled 
with  friars, — religiosi  vagabundi^  religious  vag- 
rants, as  they  are  called  in  an  old  English  statute, 
— whose  practices  and  professions  were  in  utter 
contradiction.  The  orders,  to  which  they  be- 
longed, had  been  founded  in  love  of  purity  and 
morality,  at  a  time  when  men  were  working  out 
their  passions  in  religious  as  well  as  chivalrous 
life.  But  when  these  early  principles  were  for- 
gotten, when  poverty  and  devotion  were  aban- 
doned for  luxury  and  profligacy,  when  friars  were 
all  "  like  spiders,"  as  old  Fox*  says,  "  sucking 
things  to  poison,"  then  they  became  hateful  to 
the   church   and   to   the   people   of  the   church. 

*  Iti  his  Acts  and  Monuments  of  the  Church. 


68  JOHN    DE   WYCLIFFE. 

The  friars  were  neither  monks  nor  priests,  but 
mendicants,  preaching  and  begging  everywhere, 
just  such  vagrants  as  we  should  put  in  our  alms- 
houses, without  much  heed  to  the  reverence  which 
was  really  felt  for  them  in  other  days.  They 
were  in  the  way  of  all  classes ;  of  the  priesthood, 
because  they  fastened  themselves  upon  church- 
ofRces  and  church-revenues ;  of  the  universities, 
because  they  interfered  with  studies,  and  corrupted 
scholars  to  follow  them:  of  the  nobles,  because 
their  pretensions  were  for  democracy  and  common 
property ;  of  the  people,  even,  not  only  because 
they  claimed  the  people's  support,  but  because 
they  brought  sorrow  and  shame  into  the  people's 
homes.  Grosseteste  compared  them  to  dead  bodies, 
come  out  from  sepulchres,  in  grave-clothes,  and 
living,  as  though  they  were  possessed  with  devils, 
among  men.  They  had  been  assailed  by  Fitz- 
ralph,  the  Archbishop,  whose  name  has  been 
mentioned  a  little  before,  and  it  was  to  him  that 
Wycliffe  succeeded.  Chaucer,  in  his  impetuous 
way,  held  that 

"  Friars  and  fiends  are  but  little  asunder," — 

and  an  old  poem,  called  Pierce  the  Plowman's 
Crede,  written  in  Wycliffe's  time,  describes  a  friar 
whose  portrait  belongs  to  the  whole  race : 

"  A  great  churl  and  a  grim,  growen  as  a  tune, 
With  a  face  so  fat  as  a  full  bladder, 
Blowcn  brimful  of  brcalh  and  as  a  bag  hung." 

To  rid  the  world  of  these  men  was  a  Christian 
enterprise,  which  Wycliffe  did  not  fear  to  begin 


JOHN    DE   WYCLIFFE.  ©9 

upon.  He  wrote  a  large  tract,  which  he  called  his 
"  Objections  to  Friars,"  and  declared  his  aims  to 
be  not  only  for  purifying,  but  for  destroying  all  the 
orders  in  which  they  were  numbered.  How  they 
had  departed  from  their  own  professions,  how 
they  were  enemies  to  the  Gospel-spirit,  how 
through  their  frenzy,  the  pope  was  raised  not  only 
above  all  civil  authority,  but  even  above  the  com- 
mands of  Christ,  —  this,  and  more  than  this,  is 
made  plain  by  Wycliffe's  "  Objections,"  as  it  had 
never  been  before.  Then,  as  Fox  tells  us,  "  the 
whole  glut  of  Monks  and  begging  Friars  were 
set  in  a  rage  and  madness,  which  (even  as  hor- 
nets with  their  sharp  stings)  did  assail  this  good 
man  on  every  side,  fighting,  it  is  said,  for  their 
Altars,  Paunches  and  Bellies."  Wycliffe  had 
done  a  bold  thing ;  but  he  was  quite  able  to  bear 
all  the  anger  and  all  the  praise  it  brought  upon 
him.  Yet  it  was  a  hopeless  reform  to  start  with, 
for  until  the  pope  and  his  cardinals  were  convert- 
ed to  it,  the  friars  would  never  be  entirely  reformed 
or  destroyed.  Whatever  injury  they  did  to  the 
people,  it  would  be  said  in  Rome,  was  more  than 
balanced  by  the  service  they  did  to  the  church, 
temporally  as  well  as  spiritually.  But  a  stern 
and  solemn  protest,  like  Wycliffe's,  might,  at 
least,  give  understanding  to  the  people,  and  pre- 
pare the  coming  of  that  day,  when  not  only  friars, 
but  popes  and  cardinals  were  to  be  rejected  by 
half  the  world. 


70  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

These  "  Objections,"  were  published  in  1360, 
and  by  them  WychfFe  was  speedily  known  to  be 
a  learned,  brave  and  single-hearted  man.  Thirty- 
seven  years  old,  and  a  world  to  change,  a  gener- 
ation to  set  free  from  the  worst  of  all  tyrannies, 
tyranny  over  intellect  and  faith;  this  was  Wy- 
clifFe's  work  to  fulfil.  In  the  following  year, 
(1361,)  he  was  presented  by  Baliol  College  to  a 
living  in  Lincolnshire,  and  not  long  after,  was 
elected  to  the  Wardenship  of  the  same  college. 
Four  years  later,  Simon  Islep,  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  selected  him  to  be  the  Warden  of 
Canterbury  Hall,  a  new  college  which  the  Arch- 
bishop, himself  greatly  distinguished  as  a  scholar 
and  prelate,  had  just  founded  at  Oxford.  There 
are  some  words  in  the  letter  of  appointment  ad- 
dressed to  Wycliffe,  which  deserve  to  be  repeated  : 
"  regarding  the  honesty  of  your  life  and  laudable 
conversation,  and  also  the  knowledge  of  letters, 
by  which  you  are  especially  distmguished,  and 
having  all  confidence  in  your  fidehty,  prudence 
and  industry,  we  do  entrust  to  you  the  Warden- 
ship  of  our  Canterbury  Hall ; "  words,  which 
coming  from  such  a  man  as  Archbishop  Islep  to 
such  a  man  as  Wycliffe,  are  of  no  little  meaning. 
There  was  great  trouble  from  a  former  warden, 
whose  place  had  been  given  to  Wycliffe  in  the 
new  college,  and  when  Archbishop  Islep  died,  his 
successor  removed  Wycliffe  and  reinstated  the  old 
incumbent,  whose  single  merit  was   in  being  a 


JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE.  71 

brawling  monk,  ready  to  do  all  that  the  new  Arch- 
bishop desired.  The  successive  offices  which 
Wycliffe  held  at  Oxford  are  all  signs  of  the  honor, 
which  was  given  him  by  those  to  whom  he  was 
best  known.  He,  meantime,  went  on  steadily 
and  consistently.  The  course  he  pursued  was 
larger  every  year,  but  its  increase  came  from  its 
own  springs  of  life  and  energy.* 

There  is  some  importance  in  connecting  Wy- 
cliffe's  early  reforms  with  the  doings  of  the  Eng- 
lish parliament,  because,  in  that  way  better  than 
any  other,  we  see  how  the  full  strength  of  popular 
opinion  sustained  him.  The  battle  of  Poitiers 
was  won  by  the  Black  Prince  in  1356,  and  France 
lay  almost  at  the  mercy  of  England.  Such  vic- 
tories as  Poitiers  and  Crecy,  gained  by  archers 
and  common  men-at-arms,  over  feudal  knights 
and  their  retainers,  are  signs  of  the  people's  pro- 
gress in  Wycliffe' s  times.  How  the  energy  of 
national  feeling  was  impressed  upon  all  English- 
men by  these  brilliant  campaigns  in  France,  may 
be  easily  comprehended.  Its  first  expression  was 
turned  against  Rome,  in  settling  the  matter  of 
papal  Provisions  (appointments  to  church  offices) 
by  declaring,  through  parliament,  "  that  the  court 
of  Rome  shall  not  present  or  collate  to  any  bishop- 
ric or  living  in  England."  (1350.)  This  was  set- 
tling not  only  the  matter  of  Provisions  but  the 

*  See  a  longer  note  at  the  end  of  this  Passage. 


72  JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE. 

matter  of  Popes,  to  whom  Provisions  were  very 
essentially  "  the  meat  that  perisheth."  Pope  Ur- 
ban v.,  (1365,)  vexed  and  alarmed,  set  about 
saving  his  authority  in  England,  by  demanding 
the  payment  of  King  John's  tribute,  and  of  all  its 
arrears  for  the  past  thirty-three  years,  which,  a 
thousand  marks  a  year,  would  have  been  no  less 
than  two  millions  and  a  quarter  of  our  dollars. 
King  Edward  received  the  pope's  claims,  and 
referred  them  to  parliament,*  who,  without  any 
hesitation,  lords,  knights  and  burghers,  pledged 
themselves  "with  all  their  force  and  power  to  re- 
sist the  same."!  Wycliffe  was  presently  made 
Royal  Chaplain  to  King  Edward,  so  that  his  spirit 
and  his  works  had  already  found  favor  with  his 
sovereign. 

Wycliffe' s  most  earnest  friend,  at  this  time, 
was  the  king's  third  and  favorite  son,  John 
of  Gaunt,  Duke  of  Lancaster,  a  prince  of  such 
really  noble  mind,  that  his  presence  among  the 
histories  of  his  period  is  sure  to  be  welcome. 
Chaucer,  whom  we  carmot  quote  too  often  as  a 

*  It  is  worth  our  while  to  know  what  parliament  had  done  before 
this  time,  (1365.)  One,  so  far  hack  as  1307,  had  openly  complained 
of  the  exactions  and  corruptions  of  Rome.  Another,  in  1347,  ordered 
"  that  all  alien  Monks  should  avoid  the  realms  by  the  day  of  St. 
Jlichael,  and  that  their  livings  should  be  disposed  to  young  English 
Scholars."  Parliament  also  interfered  in  1353  to  prevent  the  trans- 
ferment  of  any  legal  questions  to  foreign  tribunals. 

+  The  honest  words  of  this  pledge  are  partly  given  in  Lc  Bas's 
Life  of  Wyclifj'e,  Chap.  iii. 


JOHPJ    DE    WYCLIFFE.  73 

chronicler,  is  supposed  to  have  alluded  to  Lan- 
caster in  these  warmly-written  lines  : 

He  was  in  sothe,  without  excepcion, 

To  speake  of  manhood,  one  the  best  on  live  [alive]  ; 

There  may  no  man  aj'en  [against]  troulh  strive, 

For  of  liis  tyme  and  of  his  age  also, 

He  proved  was  there  [where]  men  shuld  have  ado. 

Lancaster  was,  long  before  his  father's  death, 
really  at  the  head  of  affairs  in  England,  and  had 
still  earlier  been  honorably  associated  with  his 
brother  the  Black  Prince  in  the  French  cam- 
paigns. Hostile  by  nature  and  by  policy  to  the 
corruptions  of  the  English  clergy,  he  lent  all  his 
support  to  the  pure  designs  of  the  rising  reformer. 
We  can  accept  the  generous  character  by  which 
Lancaster  was  constantly  distinguished,  as  one 
proof,  at  least,  that  Wycliffe's  purposes  were 
neither  intolerant  nor  gloomy.  He  who  was  most 
magnificent  at  such  a  court  as  Edward's,  he  who 
was  most  humane  throughout  such  changes  as 
marked  both  Edward's  and  Richard's  reigns,  he 
who  was  Chaucer's  friend,  would  never  have 
encouraged  the  spleen  or  the  sternness  of  a  priest, 
no  matter  how  heavily  these  were  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  church  already  beginning  to  fall. 
Lancaster  is  called  "  the  pious  Duke,"  by- no  less 
an  authority  than  the  historian  Knyghton,  and 
there  is  nothing  to  hinder  us  from  believing  that 
the  favor  shown  to  Wycliffe  was  counselled  by  the 
heart  as  well  as  the  head  of  this  royal  protector. 
When  at  a  later  period  Wycliffe  seems  to  have 


74  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

been  abandoned  by  Lancaster,  it  is  to  be  borne  in 
mind  that  Lancaster  was  then  Hving  in  retire- 
ment, unable,  perhaps,  to  do  much  for  any  man, 
unwilhng,  perhaps,  to  do  anything  for  doctrines 
which,  he  may  have  thought,  were  driven  much 
too  far  for  him  to  follow.  Lancaster  very  likely 
deserved  the  name  which  one  of  the  old  chroni- 
clers gives  him,  of  "a  faithful  son  to  the  holy 
Church  ;"  but  with  all  his  fidelity  to  the  Church, 
it  is  to  him  that  Wycliffe  was  indebted  for  excel- 
lent support,  when  it  was  most  availing. 

At  the  time  of  Wycliffe' s  appointment  to  be 
Royal  Chaplain,  his  name  was  already  gone 
abroad  through  his  own  country  and  through 
other  lands.  He  was  presently  called  upon  by 
some  unknown  priest,  to  defend  the  king's  and 
the  nation's  refusal  of  the  pope's  demands  for 
tribute  money.  He  did  not  hesitate ;  it  was  a 
work  for  the  Royal  Chaplain  to  do ;  and  in  de- 
claring his  devout  affection  to  the  church,  he 
claimed  for  the  king  a  full  and  perfect  right  to 
control  all  ecclesiastical  as  well  as  all  civil  inter- 
ests in  his  kingdom.  Wycliffe  also  stoutly  de- 
fended the  Parliament  for  their  resolution  to  stand 
by  their  sovereign,  in  a  cause  which  was  both  his 
and  theirs.  Not  unconsciously,  we  will  trust,  the 
reformer  was  approaching  what  must  have  been 
to  him  a  glorious  image,  the  image  of  a  church 
free  from  priestcraft  and  obedient  to  national, 
universal  and  Christian   laws.     But  the   simple 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE.  75 

truth  of  WyclifFe's  positions  was  this,  that  if  the 
king  had  no  control  over  the  Enghsh  clergy,  he 
would  have  no  authority  at  all,  while  clergymen 
remained  in  possession  of  high  places  throughout 
the  kingdom.*  A  parliament,  in  1371,  made  pe- 
tition to  the  king,  "  that  it  would  please  him  that 
Laymen  and  no  others  might  for  the  future  be 
made  Chancellors,  Treasurers  ...  or  other 
great  Officers  and  Governors  of  the  Kingdom," 
and  state-offices  were  accordingly  "removed," 
says  Fox,  "  from  the  Clergy  to  the  Lords  tem- 
poral." In  darker  years,  when  all  the  wisdom 
men  had  was  shut  up  in  monasteries,  it  was  na- 
tural that  priests  should  be  better  able  than  any 
others,  to  manage  human  concerns,  temporal  as 
much  as  spiritual.  But  when  schools  were  opened 
and  wisdom  offered  unto  all,  it  was  time  that 
clergy  should  be  kept  a  little  more  to  their  own 
work,  and  laymen  suffered  a  little  oftener  to  do 
theirs  for  themselves.  Wycliffe  and  the  Com- 
mons were  upon  this  well-agreed.  His  own  words 
are  these:  "Prelates  and  great  religious  Posses- 


*  "  The  offices  of  lord  chancellor  and  lord  treasurer  and  those  of 
keeper  and  clerk  of  the  privy  seal  were  filled  by  clergymen.  The 
master  of  the  rolls,  the  master  in  chancery,  and  the  chancellor  and 
chamberlain  of  the  exchequer,  were  also  dignitaries  or  beneficed 
persons  of  the  same  order.  One  priest  was  treasurer  for  Ireland, 
and  another  for  the  marches  of  Calais ;  and  while  the  parson  of 
Oundle  is  employed  as  surveyor  of  the  king's  buildings,  the  parson 
of  Harwick  is  called  to  the  superintendence  of  the  royal  wardrobe." 
—  VaugharVs  Life  and  Opinions  of  Wycliffe,  Chap.  3. 


76  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

sioners  are  so  occupied  in  heart  about  worldly 
lordships  and  with  pleas  of  business,  that  no  habit 
of  devotion,  of  praying,  of  thoughtfulness  on  Heav- 
enly things,  on  the  sins  of  their  own  heart  or  on 
those  of  other  men  may  be  preserved  ;  neither  may 
they  be  found  studying  and  preaching  of  the  Gos- 
pel, nor  visiting  and  comforting  of  poor  men." 
This  is  not  at  all  exaggerated,  so  far  as  we  can 
read ;  men  were  priests  chiefly  that  they  might 
be  rulers,  and  Wycliffe  was  not  without  reason  in 
calling  the  greatest  among  them  "  Bailiffs  rather 
than  Bishops."  William  of  Wykeham,  the  fa- 
mous Bishop  of  Winchester,  born  in  the  same  year 
with  Wycliffe,  is  a  most  favorable  specimen  of 
English  prelacy  in  his  day.  He  founded  schools, 
opened  colleges,  built  up  palaces  and  churches, 
and  was  really  a  worker  of  good  things.  But 
not  content  with  these,  he  would  be  Chancellor 
of  England,  "so  high,"  as  Froissart  says,  "in 
the  king's  grace,  that  nothing  was  done  in 
any  respect  whatever  without  his  advice."  It 
is  not  here  worth  our  while  to  enter  upon  the 
course  of  the  factions  which  he  is  generally  sup- 
posed to  have  directed,  almost  as  he  pleased.  The 
Good  Parliament,  as  it  was  called,  of  1376,  seems 
to  have  been  made  up  of  priests,  or  of  commoners 
who  may  be  said  to  have  been  priest-ridden. 
Their  famous  remonstrance  against  papal  usurp- 
ation amounts  only  to  this,  that  they  would  have 
kept  all  church-revenues  free  from  other  control 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  T7 

than  that  of  the  English  clergy,  who  claimed  these 
for  themselves.  The  impeachment  of  Lancaster's 
purposes,  and  the  persecution  of  Lancaster's  fol- 
lowers, were  only  brought  about  by  a  virulence  of 
spirit,  which  we  are  here  concerned  to  observe,  be- 
cause it  is  a  sort  of  introduction  to  the  attacks 
which  Wycliffe  himself  was  afterwards  obliged 
to  sustain.  Wykeham  was  always  foremost 
among  those  to  whom  reform  was  a  hateful  thing. 
Failing  to  maintain  simplicity  and  truth  in  long 
years  of  eminence  and  trial,  he  opposed  all  Wy- 
cliffe's  purposes,  and  finally  procured  Wycliffe's 
expulsion  from  Oxford  in  his  old  age.  A  "  Bish- 
op "  and  a  "Bailiff"  also! 

In  1372.  Wycliffe  was  appointed  to  the  pro- 
fessorship of  Theology  at  Oxford  with  the  degree 
of  Doctor  in  Divinity,  and  the  lectures  he  began 
immediately  afterwards  were  received  by  crowds 
of  scholars,  young  and  old.  This  was  the  public 
acknowledgment  of  his  learning. 

In  1373,  he  was  named  by  the  king  as  one  of  an 
embassy  sent  to  Bruges,  upon  the  old  matter  of 
Provisions,  which,  it  seems,  had  not  yet  been  set- 
tled to  England's  satisfaction.  This  was  the 
public  acknowledgment  of  Wycliffe's  influence  as 
a  reformer. 

These  may  be  called  his  golden  days,  when  life 
and  hope  were  strong  within  him,  notwithstand- 
ing the  fifty  years  which  he  had  very  nearly 
numbered.      Honor    and    reverence    at  Oxford, 


78  JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE, 

honor  and  office  in  London,  honor  and  love  in 
that  Lincolnshire  parish  to  which  he  still  minis- 
tered ;  in  all  these  there  was  rejoicing  for  what 
he  had  done,  confidence  in  what  he  had  yet  to  do. 

We  must  briefly  follow  him  to  Bruges,  which, 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  was  a  ''  beautiful,  powerful 
and  grateful"  city,  renowned  not  only  for  its  great 
lords,  the  Counts  of  Flanders,  but  for  its  wealthy 
and  important  citizens.  Thither  went  Wycliffe 
with  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  and  some  colleagues, 
to  meet  the  pope's  commissioners.  At  the  same 
city  were  already  assembled  other  embassies  from 
France  and  from  England,  treating  of  peace  under 
the  pope's  mediation ;  so  that  Wychfle  was  at 
once  brought  in  contact  with  notable  men  not  of 
Bruges  alone,  but  of  France  and  of  Rome.  His 
own  mission  seems  to  have  failed,  for  not  yet 
could  the  pope  abandon  his  claims  to  the  English 
benefices,  and  Wycliffe  returned  home  in  the  fol- 
lowing year,  (1375,)  bringing  back,  at  least,  some 
new  ideas,  some  new  resolutions,  by  which  his 
future  course  must  have  been  directed.  That  he 
satisfied  the  king  in  the  embassy,  although  its 
main  object  was  lost,  appears  from  his  appoint- 
ment by  the  crown  to  a  prebend  in  the  Worcester 
diocese. 

Nor  was  this  the  only  sign  of  the  favor  which 
King  Edward  still  showed  him.  The  rectorship 
of  Lutterworth,  falling  vacant  soon  after,  was 
given  to  Wycliffe,  and  a  new  vineyard  opened 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  79 

to  his  usefulness.  In  that  httle  town,  eighty 
miles  from  London,  he  passed  the  greater  part  of 
his  remaining  years  as  the  "  Rector  of  Lutter- 
worth," the  earnest  preacher,  the  faithful  friend 
to  his  people. 

"  A  better  priest,  I  trow,  that  nowher  non  is,  [was], 
He  waited  after  ne  pomp,  ne  reverence, 
Ne  maked  him  no  special  conscience. 
But  Cristes  love,  and  his  apostles  twelve, 
He  taught,  but  first  he  folwed  it  himselve." 

This  is  part  of  a  Parson's  portrait,  drawn  by 
Chaucer,  and  often  supposed  to  be  taken  from  the 
rector  of  Lutterworth,  himself;  but  Wycliffe'sown 
words  are  surer:  "Let  thy  open  life  be  a  true 
book,  in  which  the  Soldier  and  the  Layman  may 
learn  how  to  serve  God  and  keep  His  command- 
ments." Once  more  quoting  the  contemporary 
poet, 

"  To  drawen  folk  to  heven,  with  fairenesse. 
By  good  ensample  was  his  besinesse," 

and  the  gentle  life  he  followed  at  Lutterworth,  is 
in  happy  contrast  with  the  turbulence  into  which 
he  necessarily  plunged  while  pursuing  his  rapid 
reforms.  One  sees  in  Wycliffe's  writings  a  grave 
and  constant  desire  for  peace  he  could  never  find 
throughout  his  last  troubled  years.  He  deserves 
to  be  remembered  as  one  from  whom  "  the  spirit 
of  meekness"  was  not  estranged.  In  one  of  his 
works,*   composed    "  for    the   sake  of  teaching 

*  Called  "  the  Pore  Caitiff,"  and  containing  a  number  of  briefly 
but  strongly  written  tracts. 


80  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

simple  men  and  women  the  way  to  Heaven,"  he 
writes  with  much  earnestness  of  "  mansuetude,  or 
meekness  of  spirit,  whereby  thou  mayst  encounter 
all  the  roughness  and  peril  of  thy  way  with  the 
semblance  of  ease  and  mildness."  And  as  he  con- 
tinues, "  this  virtue  of  mildness  of  heart  and  ap- 
pearance makes  man  gracious  to  God  and  seemly 
to  man's  sight,"  it  is  good  for  us  to  believe  that  he 
labored,  not  only  truthfully  but  gently,  bearing  up 
as  well  as  he  could  against  all  the  contrary  influ- 
ences of  his  times,  which  made  what  we  would 
call  gentleness,  an  impossible  virtue. 

It  was  twenty  years  after  the  battle  of  Poitiers 
— most  of  the  conquests  in  France  were  lost — the 
Black  Prince  was  dead  and  buried  at  Canterbury, 
— John  of  Gaunt,  "  time-honored  Lancaster,"  al- 
though bitterly  opposed,  was  possessed  of  chief 
influence  in  England — when  the  old  king  Edward 
died.  (1377.)  His  reign  had  but  a  gloomy  close, 
and  his  grandson  Richard's,  which  followed,  be- 
gan with  a  cloudy  morning.  The  support  which 
Wycliffe  had  long  received  from  King  Edward, 
could  scarcely  be  given  him  by  Richard,  a  heed- 
less boy ;  and  from  this  time  the  character  of  Wy- 
cliffe's  reforms  may  be  considered  to  have  been 
changed.  Hitherto  contented  with  new  projects 
of  church-constitution,  he  was  now  bent  upon  new 
forms  of  church-doctrine.  The  evils  of  the  world 
in  which  he  lived,  were  in  continually  increasing 
contradiction  to  the  blessings  of  the  world  in  which 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  81 

he  believed.  What  he  had  already  established  as 
objects  of  reform,  was  the  purification  of  the  whole 
church,  the  deliverance  of  men  from  mendicant 
friars,  the  circumscription  of  the  pope's  authority, 
the  return  of  the  priesthood  to  their  spiritual  call- 
ings, and  the  progress  of  national  or  popular  power. 
Beyond  all  these  principles,  and  it  must  be  re- 
membered how  great  these  were  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  beyond  was  something  greater  and  clear- 
er still,  something  to  penetrate  men's  hearts  as 
well  as  to  influence  men's  lives,  and  Wycliffe  him- 
self began  to  see  that  faith  must  be  made  simple 
and  pure,  before  action  could  be  made  simple  and 
honorable. 


IV.    1377-1382. 

Already,  a  short  time  befare  King  Edward's 
death,  Wycliffe  had  been  called  to  account  by  the 
English  clergy  and  publicly  charged  with  heresy, 
in  their  convention  held  at  London.  They  seem 
to  have  been  greatly  alarmed  by  the  progress  his 
reforms  were  making  among  the  people,  chiefly, 
but  also  with  some  high  personages  in  the  king- 
dom. What  most  provoked  them  was  not  that 
the  reformer  attacked  the  friars  or  denied  the 
pope's  despotism,  but  that  he  should  dare  to  dis- 


82  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

pute  with  them,  the  priesthood,  upon  the  pro- 
priety of  holding  state-offices,  to  which  they  were 
as  much  attached  as  to  their  sees  or  rectorships. 
So  Wyclifte  came  to  St.  Paul's  to  defend  his 
doctrines  before  priests  and  people.  The  good 
citizens  of  London,  who  knew  less  about  the  Ox- 
ford doctor  than  about  their  own  bishop,  were 
rather  disposed  to  side  against  him,  the  more  when 
they  saw  him  come  into  the  church  with  the 
Duke  of  Lancaster  and  Earl  Marshal  Percy,  a 
nobleman  of  Lancaster's  party,  whose  chief  prin- 
ciple, it  will  be  remembered,  was  hostility  to  the 
English  priesthood.  The  Bishop  of  London,  pre- 
siding over  the  convention,  rebuked  the  noblemen 
not  only  for  appearing  there  in  such  a  cause,  but 
for  forcing  a  way  through  the  crowd  without 
much  respect  to  the  people  or  the  priests  among 
whom  they  were  come.  Lancaster  replied  haugh- 
tily, that  he  would  do  as  he  liked,  "though  the 
Bishop  said  nay,"  and  Earl  Percy  bade  Wycliffe 
be  seated,  "as  he  would  have  much  to  answer." 
"This,"  as  Fox  declares,  "  eftsoons  cast  the 
bishop  into  a  furnish  chafe,"  and  he  forbade  Wy- 
cliffe to  seat  himself;  at  which  Lancaster  lost  his 
temper,  and  muttered  something  about  "  pluck- 
ing the  Bishop  by  the  hair  of  his  head  out  of  the 
church."  The  people  began,  now,  to  take  part 
themselves  in  this  troubled  scene,  the  end  of  which 
was,  that  the  convention  separated  in  a  tumult, 
and  Wycliffe  went  away  neither  accused  nor  de- 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  83 

fended.  As  if  to  make  the  whole  matter  an  illus- 
tration of  the  strife  which  was  between  all  classes, 
the  people,  enraged  that  their  spectacle  in  St. 
Paul's  was  interrupted,  got  together  out  of  doors 
and  attacked  Lancaster's  palace,  the  Savoy,  "  to 
which  there  was  none  in  the  realm  to  be  com- 
pared, in  beauty  or  stateliness,"  doing  great  injury 
to  the  palace  itself,  and  actually  slaying  a  poor 
priest,  supposed  to  be  Earl  Percy  in  disguise. 
The  riot,  after  great  troubles,  was  finally  put 
down,  and  the  magistrates  of  London  were  fain 
to  "  submit  themselves"  to  Lancaster  and  demand 
his  pardon. 

These  troubles  were  hardly  ended  when  Rich- 
ard Second  became  king  of  England.  He  was  a 
beautiful  child,  and  although  only  ten  years  old, 
he  had  abundant  strength  in  the  love  of  his 
people,  who  were  proud  in  their  memories  of  his 
father,  the  Black  Prince,  and  glad  in  their  hopes 
of  a  king  so  young  and  pure.  We  soon  hear  of 
Wycliffe  again,  as  taking  chief  part  in  a-  question 
made  by  parliament  about  the  great  revenues 
which  popes  were  drawing  from  the  kingdom.  It 
seems  that  this  was  submitted  to  WyclifFe's  judg- 
ment, in  the  king's  name,  probably  by  the  king's 
ministers,  of  whom  Lancaster  was  far  the  most 
powerful.  The  reformer  seized  upon  such  an 
opportunity  to  declare  the  larger  reforms  he  now 
had  at  heart.  Appealing  to  the  "principles  of 
Christ's  law,"  he  decided  for  himself  and  for  the 


84  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

crown  he  served,  that  "  the  Kingdom  might  justly 
detain  its  treasure  for  the  defence  of  itself,  in 
every  case  where  necessity  shall  appear  to  require 
it."  This  was  strong,  but  not  strong  enough  for 
him  who  was  laboring  in  the  name  of  Liberty  and 
Religion.  With  solemn  emphasis,  he  says,  fur- 
ther, "  that  the  Pope  has  no  right  to  possess  him- 
self of  the  goods  of  the  Church,  as  though  he 
were  Lord  of  them,  but  that  he  is  to  be  with  re- 
spect to  them  as  a  minister  or  servant,  and  the 
proctor  of  the  Poor."  Here  was  news  to  the 
world  that  believed  in  popedom  !  Pride  and  lux- 
ury and  vice  shaken,  like  ashes  from  Rome's 
head ;  this  done,  and  Luther's  name  might  have 
had  no  honor  among  men.  But  the  time  was  not 
yet  come  which  would  give  the  world  a  greater 
freedom  than  that  of  speech  or  that  of  action, 
one  that  comprehends  both  of  these,  and  more,  far 
more,  than  is  in  these,  the  freedom  of  faith. 

The  pope  himself  was  beginning  to  interfere  with 
the  course  of  the  bold  English  reformer.  No  less 
than  nineteen  articles  of  "heretical  doctrine" 
were  sent  out  to  Rome  from  England,  and  to  these 
three  papal  letters  were  presently  returned.  The 
letters,  addressed,  severally,  to  the  king,  the  uni- 
versity, and  the  English  prelates,  had  the  same 
object,  to  prevent  the  preaching  of  Wycliifc's  re- 
forms, even,  were  it  necessary,  by  putting  him  in 
confinement  or  sending  him  to  Rome.  In  conse- 
quence, Wycliffe  was  summoned  before  another 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  85 

convention  of  the  English  clergy,  which  was  held 
at  Lambeth,  early  in  the  following  year,  (1378.) 
At  this  he  appeared  without  any  reluctance,  but  he 
was  then  occupying  quite  a  different  position  from 
that  he  had  been  obliged  to  assume  at  the  tumultu- 
ous convention  of  the  year  before.  Lancaster  had 
retired  from  the  powerful  position  he  formerly 
held,  and  Wycliffe  had  no  present  aid  from  his  gen- 
erous friend ;  but  the  reformer  was  warmly  sup- 
ported, not  only  by  the  citizens,  whose  attachment 
to  his  doctrines  was  every  month  increasing,  but 
by  king  Richard's  mother,  the  Princess  of  Wales, 
who  even  sent  her  usher  to  forbid  the  proceedings 
which  were  planned  against  Wycliffe  by  the 
bishops  at  Lambeth.  They,  the  bishops,  accord- 
ingly "  became  soft,"  says  the  historian,  "  as  oil  in 
their  speech,"  and  Wycliffe  came  out  successfully 
from  the  second  trial.  He  was  now  in  his  true 
place  as  a  reformer,  opposed  by  priests  whose 
wrongs  he  was  assailing;  sustained  by  people 
whose  rights  he  was  maintaining  with  Christian 
manliness.  At  this  second  convention,  he  made  a 
solemn  "  Confession  of  Faith,"  which  he  declared 
himself  "  ready  to  defend  even  unto  death."  Wy- 
cliffe is  often  accused  of  having  abandoned  the 
doctrines  he  began  to  profess,  as  soon  as  he  found 
they  were  bringing  trouble  and  danger  upon  him. 
But  in  Wycliffe  was  no  fear  of  man,  and  such 
stories  of  abandonment  or  recantation,  timidly  de- 
nied even  by  his  later  biographers,  we  will  here  ut- 


86  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

terly  disbelieve.  All  that  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Lambeth  confession,  which  can  by  any  means  be 
taken  for  a  sign  of  surrendering  principles,  that 
were  his  in  life  and  death,  are  these  words  :  "In 
my  conclusions  I  have  followed  the  Sacred  Scrip- 
tures and  the  Holy  Doctors,  both  in  their  meaning 
and  in  their  modes  of  expression;  this  I  am  willing 
to  show  ;  but  should  it  be  found  that  such  conclu- 
sions are  opposed  to  the  Faith,  I  am  prepared  very 
willingly  to  retract  them."  It  would  not  now  be 
discreet  or  charitable,  to  question  the  truth  to 
which  this  single-hearted  man  was  faithful. 
Cowardly,  insincere,  self-interested,  —  had  this 
been  WyclifFe,  neither  his  name  nor  his  principles 
would  have  any  proper  place  in  the  history  of 
liberty.  The  reforms  he  declared,  were  gradual 
growth  from  one  and  the  same  stock  of  deep- 
fixed  Christianity.  When  the  wealth,  the  minis- 
ters, the  outer  forces  of  popedom  had  been  shaken, 
it  was  Wycliffe's  next  object  to  set  forth  some  new 
principles  to  take  place  of  the  old.  Reform  means 
much  more  than  ruin  ;  it  accepts  elements  which 
are  indispensable  to  all  humanity,  but  gives  them 
new  beauty,  new  nature  even,  by  changing  the 
moulds  in  which  they  may  hitherto  have  been 
carelessly  or  sinfully  cast.  Wycliffe's  work  was 
not  only  to  pull  down,  but  to  build  up,  not  only  to 
destroy,  but  to  renew,  and  how  this  building  up, 
this  renewal  was  to  be  accomplished,  it  is  quite 
time  for  us  to  inquire. 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  87 

His  reforms  were  broached  sometimes  singly, 
sometimes  in  overrunning  measm-e,  but  the  same 
warmth,  the  same  fuhiess  was  in  them  all,  taken 
together  or  taken  one  by  one.  Mostly  they  may 
be  drawn  from  the  confession  he  made  at  Lam- 
beth, before  the  Clergy  of  England,  and  such  as  we 
have  found,  we  will  here  accept  as  the  worthiest 
offering  to  Wycliffe's  memory.  It  is  to  be  observed, 
at  least,  that  the  reforms  they  express  are  reforms 
of  theory  as  well  as  practice,  of  doctrine  as  well 
as  discipline.  The  principle  of  renewal,  that  is, 
of  real  reform,  lies  in  the  heart ;  it  must  be  touch- 
ed by  faith,  or  it  may  sleep  beneath  falsehood  for- 
ever ;  it  must  spring  up  in  sincerity,  or  it  will 
grow  to  be  not  a  fruit  but  a  poison  unto  men. 
Deep  as  it  was  vouchsafed  to  Wycliffe  to  see  into 
human  consciences,  deep  as  he  could,  he  looked 
with  anxious  eye.  His  love  for  all  men  was  stead- 
fast, and  in  this  he  had  inspiration.  His  compre- 
hension of  the  difficulties  under  which  all  men 
were  obliged  to  labor,  was  large-minded,  and  in 
this  he  had  security.  What  came  from  his  know- 
ledge and  his  charity  not  only  to  men  around  him, 
but  through  them,  to  men  after  him,  it  is,  or  ought 
to  be,  our  wish  to  comprehend.  In  this  we  must 
be  assisted  by  these  following  doctrines. 

In  the  first  place,  Wycliffe  would  set  some 
bounds  to  the  spiritual  power  of  popedom.  "  Man 
can  only  be  excommunicated  by  himself  .... 
Popes  can  only  loose  or  bind  by  conforming  them- 


88  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

selves  to  Christ's  law.  ...  A  curse  or  an  ex- 
communication availeth  only  against  Christ's 
adversaries."  Such  words  as  these,  like  light  to 
night-weary  souls,  came  swift  to  chase  away  the 
darkness  and  the  heaviness  of  papal  dominion. 

In  the  second  place,  WyclifFe  would  have  denied 
the  action  of  spiritual  upon  temporal  power. 
"  Christ's  disciples,"  he  said,  '•  have  no  power  to 
exact  temporal  things  by  spiritual  censures,"  and 
in  saying  this,  he  would  have  set  kings  and  sub- 
jects, governments  and  peoples,  free  from  the  un- 
just authority  which  Rome  had  long  exercised. 

In  the  tJdrd  place,  it  was  Wycliffe's  object  to 
control  the  pope's  temporal  power,  against  which 
he  had  protested  from  the  very  beginning  of  his 
career.  "  The  whole  human  race,  since  Christ, 
hath  no  power  to  ordain  that  Peter  and  his  kind 
[omne  genus  suum]  rule  perpetually  and  politically 
over  the  world."  Here  arises  the  same  image,  of 
which  we  once  before  had  a  glimpse  in  Wycliffe's 
principles,  a  church  governed  not  by  priests,  but  by 
God's  laws.  Yet,  whatever  was  concealed,  there 
was  much  made  clear  to  the  fourteenth  century, 
in  this  denial  of  church-empire. 

In  the  fo2irt/i  place,  we  discover  Wycliffe's  great 
doctrine  of  the  Clergy's  accountability  to  all  men. 
"  A  Priest,  yea,  a  Roman  Pope,  may  be  lawfully 
accused,  and  brought  to  trial  by  Laymen.  .  .  . 
Temporal  lords  may,  lawfully  and  meritorious- 
ly, deprive  a  delinquent  Church  of  its  property, 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  89 

or  a  corrupt  Pristliood  of  their  temporal  posses- 
sions." Here  was  a  whole  host  of  reforms  in  one, 
—  priestcraft  controlled,  corruption  put  away,  so- 
ciety freed,  govcrmnent  purified,  church  depend- 
ent upon  state,  —  here,  in  these  simple  phrases, 
were  justice  and  purity,  such  as  were  not  yet 
accepted  among  men. 

These  four  were  the  great  principles  of  Wy- 
cliffe's  latest  and  largest  reforms.  The  pope's 
power  was  to  become  spiritual  and  true,  the  pope's 
church  was  to  become  just  and  pure ;  and  such 
promises  fulfilled,  the  world  would  be  wider  and 
freer  and  holier.  Deny  what  Wycliffe  affirms, 
or  affirm  what  he  denies,  and  the  difference  to  us, 
to  the  six  centuries  before  us,  to  the  countless  cen- 
turies after  us,  is  immeasurable. 

On  matters  of  less  importance,  his  opinions  may 
be  very  briefly  described.  The  aims  towards 
which  they  tended  were  the  same  in  character, 
that  is,  in  simplicity  and  holiness,  but  were,  never- 
theless, quite  subordinate  in  strength  and  influ- 
ence, to  those  which  have  been  already  unfold- 
ed. He  would  have  done  away  with  the  Roman 
hierarchy,  by  reducing  all  its  orders  to  two, 
priests  and  deacons,  and  freeing  these  from  the 
unnatural  obligation  to  celibacy.  He  would  have 
made  the  worship  of  God  a  simple  and  an  under- 
standing sacrifice,  by  clearing  it  from  image-wor- 
ship, saint- worship,  and  all  unnecessary  mysteries, 
especially   the  one  of  transubstantiation,    which 


90 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE. 


had  been  finally  established  m  the  church,  only 
a  hundred  and  fifty  years  before.  He  would  have 
controlled  and  purified  the  clergy's  influence,  by 
abolishing  confession,  indulgence,  pilgrimages, 
even  tithes,  —  and  so  "  watching  in  all  things," 
and  "  making  full  proof  of  his  ministry,"  Wycliffe 
shaped  and  perfected  his  great  reforms. 

"  Blest  be  the  Architect,  whose  art 
Could  build  so  strong  in  a  weak  heart." 

There  was  danger  around  the  reformer ;  some 
plans  against  him  he  could  see  and  hinder  ;  some 
there  were,  and  he  knew  it,  that  might  be  ended 
only  in  his  martyrdom.  But  to  these  reforms  of 
his,  to  the  principles  of  which  these  were  the  ex- 
pression, to  one  and  to  all,  he  clung  as  to  his  help 
here  and  his  hope  hereafter.  "  As  all  ought  to 
be,"  he  said,  "  the  Soldiers  of  Christ,  it  is  evident 
how  many  are  condemned  by  their  sloth,  who  let 
the  fear  of  the  loss  of  temporal  benefits  or  worldly 
friendships,  or  of  the  welfare  of  the  body,  make 
them  unfaithful  in  the  cause  of  God,  or  averse  to 
stand  manlily  by  it,  even  to  death,  if  necessary." 
He  was  a  true  man,  a  Protestant  against  the  sin 
and  the  shame  of  Rome,  a  reformer  and  a  bene- 
factor to  England,  to  the  whole  Christian  world. 
We  sit  upon  green  turf,  beneath  the  shade  of 
peaceful  leaves ;  but  we  have  still  the  heart  to 
remember  that  there  was  neither  turf  nor  shade, 
unil  ITeaven  poured  its  showers  and  its  sun- 
shine upon  him  who  labored  for  man  and  for  God. 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE.  91 

WyclifFe's  greatest  work  upon  the  Scriptures  is 
yet  to  be  told. 

Meanwhile,  a  sad  schisni  had  broken  into  the 
church ;  the  cardinals  were  divided ;  one  pope 
was  ruling  in  Rome,  another  in  Avignon,  (1378.) 
The  whole  world,  ashamed  and  despairing,  was 
still  silent  and  afraid,  when  WyclifFe  spoke  out 
what  other  men  were  content  to  bury  in  their  dis- 
tracted hearts.  "It  is  the  Pope's  sin,  so  long  con- 
tinued, that  has  brought  on  this  division.  .  .  . 
This  man  feedeth  not  the  sheep  of  Christ,  as 
Christ  thrice  commanded  Peter  ;  he  spoileth  them, 
and  slayeth  them,  and  leadeth  them  many  wrong 
ways.  .  .  .  Emperors  and  Kings  should  help  in 
this  cause,  to  maintain  God's  Law,  to  recover  the 
heritage  of  the  Church  and  to  destroy  the  sins  of 
Clerks,  always  saving  their  persons."  It  was 
hard  to  see  what  would  come  from  this  double- 
headed  popedom,  or  while  it  lasted,  what  could  be 
believed  not  of  one  only,  but  of  two  popes  mfal- 
lible  and  imm.ovable.  A  reformer,  like  Wycliffe, 
had  busy  thoughts  to  deal  with  at  such  a  time,  but 
whether  he  was  able  to  comprehend,  that  this 
papal  schism  would  force  the  clergy  of  different 
countries  to  depend  more  upon  the  king  and  less 
upon  the  pope,  and  therefore  bring  all  men  nearer 
to  his  universal  church,  we  cannot  now  be  very 
sure.  The  same  tendency  is  to  be  discovered  in 
the  closely  following  struggles  by  which  England, 


92  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

like  its  own  lion,  "  pawing  to  set  free  its  hinder 
parts,"  was  all  convnlsed,  in  the  early  part  of 
Richard  the  Second's  reign. 

King  Richard  was  himself  inclined  to  favor 
Wycliffe's  doctrines,  not  becanse  he  was  an  ear- 
nest or  a  national  sovereign,  for  he  was  still  a 
child  in  years ;  but  because  he  had  been  taught 
to  dislike  the  English  clergy,  and  to  wish  especi- 
ally to  humble  them.  The  necessities  and  ex- 
travagancies of  his  reign,  charged  to  his  council- 
lors rather  than  to  him,  offended  the  people  to  such 
hatred,  that  the  rebellion  of  1381,  Wat  Tyler's  re- 
bellion, broke  out,  as  if  taxation  and  misery  were 
so  to  be  relieved.  Froissart  says,  that  this  came 
from  "  the  too  great  comfort  of  the  commonalty  ;" 
Walsingham  remarks  that  it  was  brought  about 
by  "  the  general  depravity  of  the  people  :"  but  the 
people,  or  the  commons  themselves,  declare  that 
"to  speak  the  truth,  these  mjuries  lately  done  to 
the  poorer  commons,  more  than  they  ever  suffered 
before,  caused  them  to  rise  and  commit  these  mis- 
chiefs." When  one  reads  that  ten  thousand  guests 
were  daily  fed  at  Richard's  royal  table,  it  seems 
not  only  as  if  there  were  no  luxury  so  great  that 
it  might  not  be  found  at  the  court  of  such  a  king, 
but  besides,  as  if  there  were  little  difficulty  in 
comprehending  the  causes  and  the  objects  even  of 
an  ignorant  rebellion. 

"  Grete  taxe  the  kynge  aie  tokc  thrugh  the  lande, 
For  whiche  comons  him  hated  free  and  honde." 

Ilardyng^s  Chron. 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  93 

Yet  Wycliffe  is  dragged  into  chronicles  as  having 
excited  tlic  poor  people  of  England  to  do  them- 
selves violent  justice,  and  he  is  constantly  charged 
if  not  with  preaching  sedition  in  plain  words,  at 
least  with  preaching  what  must  have  led  to  se- 
dition through  the  spirit  he  was  secretly  awakening 
among  his  countrymen.  The  only  trace  of  Wy- 
cliffe which  is  to  be  found  in  the  history  of  Wat 
Tyler's  insurrection  is,  that  there  was  a  notorious 
priest,  named  John  Ball,  who  put  himself  at  the 
head  of  armed  peasants,  and  discoursed  to  them 
by  day  or  night,  upon  the  great  things  they  were 
to  gain.  His  text  and  his  people's  was  in  this  old 
rhyme : 

"  When  Adam  delved  and  Eve  span, 
Where  was  then  the  gentleman  ?" 

But  whether  this  priest  were,  or,  as  is  far  more 
probable,  were  not  one  of  Wycliffe' s  disciples,  it 
is  quite  mmatural  to  imagine  that  a  man  so  rea- 
sonable, even  in  his  greatest  convictions,  as  Wy- 
cliffe generally  kept  himself,  should  have  preached 
rebellion  to  a  people  he  knew  to  be  quite  incapa- 
ble of  accomplishing  any  great  purposes.  Neither 
do  such  purposes  as  were  driven  to  end  in  such 
rebellion  deserve  to  be  called  great,  no  matter  by 
whom  proposed  or  by  whom  followed.  It  was 
not  the  time,  in  that  fourteenth  century,  when  all 
men  could  have  justice  done  them ;  and  how- 
ever much  we  may  mourn  the  wrongs  which 
were  resisted  by  the  peasants  of  France,  in  the 


94  JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE. 

Jacquerie,  or  by  the  peasants  of  England,  in  their 
insurrection  of  1381,  the  passions  to  which  these 
peasants  themselves  yielded,  are  so  many  reasons 
wliy  their  insurrections  failed,  why  they  ought  to 
have  failed.  Yet  it  would  he  uncharitable  to 
deny  the  justice  that  there  was  in  the  demands 
of  the  rebels,  who  followed  Wat  Tyler.  "  We 
wish,"  said  some,  in  a  crowd  of  sixty  thousand, 
among  whom  Richard  the  king  had  ventured  to 
go,  ''  we  wish  thou  wouldst  make  us  free  for  ever, 
us,  our  heirs  and  our  lands,  and  that  we  should  no 
longer  be  called  slaves  nor  held  in  bondage."* 
Had  they  been  content  to  make  such  honest 
claims  as  these,  their  cause  would  have  prospered, 
to  the  joy  of  all  true  hearts  like  Wycliffe's.  But 
they  were  bent  on  proving  the  freedom  they  chose, 
to  be  one  of  hateful  outrage,  and  their  demands 
of  relief  were  so  written  in  blood,  so  branded  with 
fire,  that  it  would  be  hard  not  to  be  glad  with 
Richard  when  he  "  had  regained  his  inheritance 
and  the  kingdom  of  England  which  he  had  lost." 
One  thing  more  is  to  be  remembered,  that  neither 
John  Ball,  nor  Wat  Tyler,  nor  their  followers,  left 
any  chronicler  to  tell  their  own  story.  It  is  not 
our  part  to  shut  out  WyclifFe  from  all  share  in  the 
sorrows  of  his  countrymen,  or  to  defend  him  for 
wishing  neither  to  see  them  slaves  nor  monsters. 


*  In  the  2d  part  of  Froissart,  Chap.  76.     See  also  Sir  James 
Mackintosh's  Hist,  of  England,  Vol.  i.  p.  319. 


JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE.  95 

King  Richard  was  young  and  thriftless,  but 
he  neither  lost  his  crown  nor  his  taxes,  until  he 
had  made  worse  enemies  thau  appeared  against 
him  in  WyclifFe's  life-time.  Some  of  his  wants, 
the  clergy  alone  seemed  able  to  supply,  and  to- 
wards them  his  favor  was  now  directed  through 
his  councillors;  while  they,  the  clergy,  alarmed 
by  schisms,  rebellions  and  reforms,  were  glad  to 
have  the  king  on  their  side,  even  though  they 
knew  his  protection  must  be  paid  from  their  own 
church-revenues.  This,  then,  was  the  fresh 
source  of  injustice  which  Wycliffe  saw  opening 
before  him ;  he  was  almost  alone ;  king,  nobles 
and  priests  were  united  against  his  heart-desires ; 
the  people  were  powerless  and,  one  may  even  say, 
indifferent;  but  Wycliffe  would  have  stood  firm 
in  the  midst  of  greater  changes  and  greater  weak- 
nesses than  these,  Edamsi  omnes  ego  71011; 
were  all  against  reform,  renewal,  truth,  he  would 
labor  for  them  alone.  At  this  very  time,  or  rather 
a  little  before,  he  fell  ill  at  Oxford,  and  was 
thought  to  be  at  death's  door.  Some  Oxford 
friars  came  to  his  sick-chamber,  and  besought  him 
in  that  awful  hour  which  seemed  to  have  come 
upon  him,  to  confess  the  falsehood  of  the  doctrines 
he  had  preached  against  them.  He  listened  to 
them  as  patiently  as  if  he  were  too  weak  to  an- 
swer ;  but  when  they  ceased,  he  bade  his  attend- 
ants raise  him  in  his  bed,  and  exclaimed  as 
earnestly  as  though  he  had  been  in  his  pulpit,  "  I 


96  JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE. 

shall  not  die,  but  shall  live  and  again  declare  the 
friars'  evil  deeds."  With  such  resolution,  he 
recovered  and  continued  to  speak  and  act  from 
the  same  honest,  fearless  soul.  One  of  his  doc- 
trines upon  the  Eucharist, — that  "  the  Host  upon 
the  altar  is  neither  Christ  nor  any  part  of  Christ, 
but  an  efficacious  sign  of  him," — was  presently 
condemned  by  some  of  the  Oxford  doctors  M'-ho 
were  opposed  to  anything  like  simplicity  or  reform. 
Wycliffe  was  lecturing  from  his  professor's  chair, 
surrounded  by  young  men  who  admired  him  if 
they  did  not  all  feel  for  him,  when  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  a  messenger  from  the  chancellor  and 
the  doctors,  who  declared  their  sentence  upon  his 
condemned  doctrine,  and,  further,  their  prohibition 
of  his  preaching  it  longer,  under  pain  of  suspen- 
sion from  university  privileges,  nay,  even  impris- 
onment and  excommunication.  Wycliffe  paused, 
surprised  but  not  subdued.  "I  do  declare,"  in 
words  like  these  he  almost  instantly  exclaimed, 
"I  do  declare  the  truth  of  what  I  have  uttered 
and  maintained ;  and  in  the  matter  of  this  sen- 
tence which  ye  have  heard  as  well  as  I,  against 
this  do  I  appeal  from  Oxford  doctors,  yea,  from 
the  very  Pope  of  Rome  to  the  Sovereign  King  of 
England."  In  this  he  was  in  earnest;  and  al- 
though delayed,  by  the  Duke  of  Lancaster's 
influence,  from  making  the  appeal  immediately, 
it  was  made,  as  we  shall  see,  at  a  little  later 
period,  to  King  and  People  also.     We  would  not 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE.  97 

forget  that  such  a  step  was  in  his  days  as  new 
and  bold,  as  if  he  had  undertaken  to  leap  from 
old  St.  Paul's  to  one  of  the  Windsor  towers. 

It  would  not  be  fair  to  say  that  Wycliffe  was 
alone  in  laboring  for  reform.  There  were  many, 
in  Oxford  University  itself,  to  stand  by  him,  in 
spite  of  threats  or  sentences,  among  whom  the 
newly  appointed  chancellor  himself,  Robert  Rigge, 
and  several  doctors,  Nicholas  Hereford,  William 
Brightwell,  Ralph  Reppington,  are  especially  to 
be  named.  Out  of  Oxford,  Wycliffe  had  still 
warmer  support.  John  of  Northampton,  a  famous 
mayor  of  London,  was  a  fast  friend  to  the  re- 
former, and  did  many  good  deeds,  that  we 
may  suppose  were  inspired  by  Wycliffe' s  prin- 
ciples.* Higher  friends  yet  to  Wycliffe  were  the 
Queen,  Anne  of  Bohemia,  whom  Richard  had 
just  espoused,  Richard's  mother,  the  Princess  of 
Wales,  and  Richard's  uncle,  the  Duke  of  Glou- 
cester. The  king,  himself,  if  we  may  still  con- 
cern ourselves  for  him,  was,  for  the  moment, 
leaning  upon  the  priesthood,  and  therefore  ill-dis- 
posed to  bear  with  any  reforms ;  but  the  favor  of 
such  a  boyish  and  capricious  king  as  Richard, 


*  He  was  particularly  earnest  in  putting  an  end  to  the  debauch- 
eries and  crimes  which  he  found  in  London,  and  which  he  took  upon 
himself  to  punish,  although  the  clergy,  in  their  ecclesiastical  courts, 
claimed  complete  jurisdiction  over  all  offences  that  were  not  purely 
civil.  Walsingham,  the  chronicler,  sets  this  down  as  London  inso- 
lence, but  John  of  Northampton  was  supported  by  all  good  citizens. 
7 


98  JOHN   1)E    WYCLIFFE. 

was  worth  little  either  to  priesthood  or  reformer. 
There  was,  however,  much  hesitation  among  all 
classes,  but  particularly  among  the  higher,  to 
support  doctrines  which  were  so  strange  to  them 
as  those  of  Wycliffe's  later  reforms.  One  of  his 
declarations,  such  as  this,  that  "a  Pope,  Bishop 
or  Priest,  in  a  state  of  mortal  sin,  hath  no  power 
over  the  Faithful,"  was  enough  to  make  men  fear 
what  might  come  from  their  trusting,  or  even 
from  their  listening  to  words  that  swept  over  old 
faiths  like  the  waves  of  a  great  sea.  But  in  mat- 
ters of  mere  practice,  and  even  of  morality,  Wy- 
cliffe  was  better  sustained  than  we  should  have 
thought  he  would  have  been  in  feudal  times. 
The  number  of  his  followers  was  "very  much 
increased,"  says  Knyghton ;  "  for,  starting  like 
shoots  from  roots  of  trees,  they  were  multiplied  and 
spread  through  all  the  land."  Some  among  them, 
some  knights  especially,  went  about  armed, 
"  lest,"  as  the  same  chronicler  adds,  "  they  might 
meet  shame  or  loss,  on  account  of  their  profane 
doctrine,  from  those  who  held  the  true  Faith  still." 
These  knights  and  gentlemen,  who  embraced  Wy- 
clifie's  opinions,  seem  to  have  been  his  strenuous 
and  courageous  friends.* 
No !  Wycliife  was  not  alone  in  believing  the  prin- 

*  Isti  erant  hujus  secti  promotores  strenuissimi  et  propugnatores 
forlissimi :  qui  iiiiliiari  cingulo  amhicbant,  ne  a  recte  creiientilius 
aliquid  opprobrii  aut  damni  propter  eorum  profanatn  doctrinam 
sentiretur. — Kny^liton. 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  99 

ciples  of  liberty  in  faith  and  purity  in  soul ;  nor  was 
the  world  so  dark  as  to  give  back  no  reflection  of 
the  shining  light  he  poured  upon  it,  not  from  his 
heart  only  but  from  the  hearts  of  many  true  and 
faithful  ones,  who  followed  him  in  life,  and  re- 
membered him  when  his  life  on  earth  was  ended. 
His  staunchest  followers  were  the  "  Poor  Priests," 
of  whom  we  read  something  in  all  the  chronicles 
of  the  time.  They  were  "  Fellows,"  says  Fox, 
"  going  barefoot  and  in  long  frise  gowns,  preach- 
ing diligently  unto  the  People ;"  good  fellows, 
we  should  say,  who  asked  no  alms,  no  church- 
living,  no  repose,  but  were  willing  to  go  "  where- 
ever  they  might  help  their  Brethren  to  heaven- 
ward, whether  by  teaching,  praying  or  example- 
giving,  while  they  have  time  and  a  little  bodily 
strength  and  youth."  A  while  ago,  we  took  but 
little  pains  to  convince  ourselves  that  Wycliffe's 
reforms  were  not  to  be  set  down  simply,  as  so 
much  destruction  of  old  things  without  any  cre- 
ation of  new  things.  The  word  Reform,  we 
thought  to  mean  renewal  rather  than  ruin.  Now 
in  this  institution  of  "  Poor  Priests,"  do  we  find 
complete  illustration  of  what  we  have  been  will- 
ing to  believe.  Wycliffe  had  declared,  not  only 
that  the  clergy  must  be  pin-ificd,  but  also  that  the 
whole  race  of  mendicant  friars  must  be  destroyed, 
if  Christ  were  to  keep  possession  of  the  world 
against  all  the  struggles  of  Anti-christ.     Yet  in 


100  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

those  distant  years,  where  we  seem  to  see  giant- 
shapes  of  wrong  triumphant  over  dwarf-shapes  of 
right,  it  would  have  been  better  to  let  things  re- 
main even  as  they  were,  than  to  have  rejected 
suddenly  all  men  who  called  themselves  God's 
servants,  unless  their  places  could  he  filled  by 
others  of  the  same  name  but  of  purer  hearts. 
This,  then,  was  Wycliffe's  purpose, — in  declaring 
that  "  Friars  and  Priests  have  been  the  cause, 
beginning  and  maintaining  of  perturbation  in 
Christiandom," — not  to  set  the  world  free  from 
counsels,  or  deprive  the  world  of  comforts  which 
true  priests  may  bring,  but  to  save  the  world  from 
evils  which  false  priests  must  bring  upon  men.  In 
place  of  a  Church,  to  which  its  Clergy  were  a 
curse,  and  its  People  a  shame,  he  would  have 
built  up  a  Church,  whose  Clergy  and  whose 
People  should  have  been  united  in  Christian 
works  and  Christian  hopes.  These  Poor  Priests 
were  Wycliffe's  chosen  disciples  and  helpers. 
"  By  this,  preaching  the  Gospel,"  he  said,  "  Christ 
conquered  the  World  out  of  the  Fiend's  hand;" 
and  by  preaching  the  Gospel,  Wyclifie,  himself, 
believed  that  his  reforms  were  to  be  most  surely 
achieved.  The  Poor  Priest's  mission  was  to  live 
among  the  people  in  simplicity,  gentleness  and 
truth.  All  he  had  to  do  Avas  to  be  done  earnestly, 
but  always  gradually  and  peacefully.  "Never- 
theless,   we  condemn  not  Curates   who  do  well 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  101 

their  office,  and  dwell  where  they  shall  most  pro- 
fit, and  teach  truly  and  stably  God's  Law  against 
false  Prophets  and  the  accursed  deceptions  of  the 
Fiend."  Yet  such  gentleness  as  this  had  but 
poor  return.  "  If  there  be  any  simple  man," 
says  Wycliffe  also,  "who  desireth  to  live  well 
and  to  teach  truly  God's  Law,  he  shall  be  held 
a  Hypocrite,  a  New  Teacher,  a  Heretic,  and  not 
suffered  to  come  to  any  benefice."  These  Priests, 
be  it  remembered,  never  sought  benefices,  while 
Wycliffe  was  alive ;  for  it  was  his  expressed  de- 
sire that  they  should  keep  themselves  free  from 
temptations  to  corruption  and  indolence,  such  as 
seem  to  be  the  two  peculiar  characteristics  of  the 
English  Clergy  in  his  time.  There  was  some 
sternness,  but  there  was  also  much  charity  in  the 
lives  they  preferred  to  lead.  One  of  these  Poor 
Priests  most  faithful  to  their  master,  was  Wil- 
liam Thorpe,  born  of  respectable  parents  in  Wy- 
cliffe's  parish,  and  educated  for  the  priesthood. 
Thoughtful  and  sensitive,  even  while  a  boy,  he 
began,  as  he  grew  up,  to  have  scruples  with 
regard  to  the  calling  that  had  been  chosen  for 
him.  In  his  anxiety,  he  had  recourse  to  "  those 
Priests," — these  are  his  own  words, — "  whom  I 
heard  to  be  of  best  name  and  most  holy  living, 
and  best  learned  and  most  wise  of  heavenly  wis- 
dom; and  so  I  communed  with  them  unto  the 
time  that  I  perceived  by  their  virtues  and  con- 
tinual occupations,  that  their  honest  and  charitable 


102  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

works  passed  the  fame  which  I  had  heard  before  of 
them."  The  priests,  with  whom  he  communed, 
were  WychfFe's  disciples,  and  to  them  he  joined 
himself,  and  labored  steadfastly  for  Wycliffe's 
principles,  more  than  thirty  years.  The  accoimt 
he  gives  of  his  master  is  brief  and  full  enough  to 
be  repeated.  "  He  was  holden  of  full  many  men 
the  greatest  clerk  that  they  knew  then  living,  and 
withal,  a  passing  ruly  [sedate]  man  and  innocent 
in  his  living ;  for  which  reason,  great  men  com- 
muned often  with  him,  and  they  loved  so  his 
learning,  that  they  writ  it,  and  busily  enforced 
them  to  rule  themselves  thereafter."  All  that 
Wycliffe  taught,  all  that  he  did,  was,  as  William 
Thorpe  continues,  "  most  agreeable  unto  the  liv- 
ing and  teaching  of  Christ  and  His  Apostles,  and 
most  openly  showing  and  declaring  how  the 
Church  of  Christ  had  been  and  should  yet  be 
ruled  and  governed."  In  all  the  trials,  examin- 
ations and  persecutions,  which  succeeded  near  to 
Wycliffe's  death,  when  most  of  the  Reformer's 
followers  were  disheartened  and  faithless,  when 
the  truth,  which  Wycliffe  had  seemed,  at  least,  to 
establish,  was  shaken  and  falling  down,  Thorpe 
was  the  one  spirit,  resolute  in  persecution,  faith- 
ful in  temptation,  unchangeable  in  the  midst  of 
many  changes.  "  By  the  authority  of  God's 
Law,"  he  declared,  "  I  am  taught  to  believe  that 
it  is  every  Priest's  office  and  duty  to  preach, 
busily  and  freely  and  truly,  God's  Word."     His 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  103 

name  and  WyclifFe's  belong  together ;  Thorpe,  the 
firm  disciple,  Wycliffe,  the  fearless  master.* 

The  English  Clergy  were  far  from  letting  Wy- 
cliffe take  his  own  way  ;  and  as  they  had  already 
called  him  before  their  convention,  so  they  re- 
solved now  to  hinder  him  by  holding  back  his 
followers.  William  Courtney,  the  same  bishop  of 
London  who  had  been  active  in  pursuing  Wy- 
cliffe, some  years  before,  was  now  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  He  was  the  son  of  the  Earl  of  De- 
vonshire, and  certainly  as  haughty  and  violent  an 
Archbishop, — "  hot  as  a  Tost,"  so  men  said, — as 
one  would  care  to  see.  A  title  he  presently  as- 
sumed,— "Chief  Inquisitor  of  Heretical  Pravity  for 
the  Province  of  Canterbury,"  —  was  like  a  decla- 
ration of  unwearied  hostility  to  Wycliffe,  and  he 
soon  proved  himself  to  be  in  earnest,  by  holding  a 
synod  of  his  clergy,  at  the  Grey  Friars,  in  Lon- 
don, whose  especial  concern  was  to  do  something 
about  Wycliffe' s  reforms.  Accordingly,  after  con- 
fessing that  these  new  opinions  were  "declared, 
commonly,  generally,  and  publicly,  through  the 
realm  of  England,"  the  Clergy  at  Grey  Friars  as- 
sembled, obeyed  the  orders  of  their  Archbishop, 
and  declared  all  the  doctrines,  which  Wycliffe 
had  professed,  to  be  heretical.     It  was  with  some 

*  There  were  other  names  less  worthy  of  remembrance  among 
Wycliffe's  followers,  John  Aston,  John  Purvay,  William  Swinder- 
by,  "  right  wise  men  and  prudent,"  so  long  as  they  were  true  to 
their  master. 


104  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

difficulty  that  these  brave  priests  were  brought  to 
determine  on  the  matter  of  heresy ;  for,  near  the 
very  moment  of  decision,  the  house  in  which  they 
were  sitting  was  shalien  by  an  earthquake,  and 
they  were  so  much  alarmed,  that  Archbishop 
Courtney  was  obliged  to  convince  them,  that 
the  earthquake  was  a  sign  of  evil  doctrines 
downfallen,  before  they  were  calm  enough  to  do 
all  he  desired.  Then  followed  a  procession  to  St. 
Paul's,  where  a  sermon  was  preached  by  a  friar, 
upon  the  heresies  of  the  time ;  and  Archbishop 
Courtney  sent  abroad  letters  "admonishing  and 
warning  that  no  man  do  henceforth  hold,  preach 
or  defend  the  foresaid  heresies  and  errors;"  all 
which  seems  to  us  as  efficacious,  as  if  the  Arch- 
bishop and  his  priests  had  warned  men  to  use 
their  eyes  and  ears  no  longer.  Wycliffe  himself 
had  soon  something  to  say  about  "the  Earth- 
quake Council  of  Friars."  To  one  of  the  synod- 
sessions  held  afterwards.  Chancellor  Rigge  and 
Doctor  Brightwell  were  summoned  from  Oxford, 
charged  with  having  favored  the  reformer's  doc- 
trines. Doctor  Rcppington,  it  seemed,  had  just 
been  preaching  a  sermon,  before  the  members  of 
the  university  and  the  citizens,  in  which  he  de- 
clared his  purpose  of  defending  Wycliffe,  as  "a 
true  Catholic  Doctor,"  against  the  empty  sentence 
blown  out,  like  a  bubble,  from  the  synod  at  the 
(jlrey  Friars.  They  who  heard  Rcppington 
preach  this  sermon  scarcely  allowed  him  to  finish 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  105 

it ;  and  when  it  was  done,  some  friends,  "  privily 
weaponed  under  their  garments,"  dragged  him 
away,  and  saved  him  from  the  numerous  enemies 
who  were  now  violent  against  Wycliffe  and  Wy- 
clifFe's  followers.  Doctor  Nicholas  Hereford  had 
preached  another  sermon  to  the  same  purpose  of 
defending  the  reformer  against  his  enemies,  and 
both  he  and  Reppington  had  been  sustained  by 
the  Chancellor  and  Doctor  Brightwell.  They 
were  therefore  all  called  before  the  synod  at  the 
Grey  Friars.  Here  came  the  beginning  of  that 
faithlessness,  after  which  Wycliffe  was  aban- 
doned in  his  old  age,  by  many  who  had  hitherto 
been  true  to  him.  Rigge  and  Brightwell  submit- 
ted first :  the  Chancellor,  at  Archbishop  Court- 
ney's command,  declared  Wycliffe,  Reppington 
and  the  others  to  be  suspended  from  ' '  all  scho- 
lastic exercises,  until  such  times  as  they  should 
have  purified  themselves ; "  and  even  Repping- 
ton, himself,  yielded,  to  come  out  afterwards  as 
Bishop  of  Lincoln  and  persecutor  of  Wycliffe' s 
people.  Hereford  is  constantly  represented  as  the 
most  eminent  among  all  the  Oxford  scholars  who 
attached  themselves  to  Wycliffe,  and  is,  besides, 
generally  supposed  to  have  labored  in  the  great 
work  of  the  Bible-Translation.  It  has  been  said 
about  him  that  he  kept  his  faith,  and  died  in  a 
Convent  of  Friars  with  whom  he  found  a  later 
refuge.  But  to  this  there  are  contrary  reports,  so 
strongly  sustained  by  church-records,  of  recan- 


106  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

tation  first  and  recompense  afterwards,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  speak  more  warmly  of  Hereford's 
memory. 

In  1382,  there  was  published  a  statute,  in  the 
king's  name,  "  against  the  foresaid  heresies  and 
errors,"  which  the  clergy  were  declaring  and  pro- 
hibiting with  much  bitterness  and  even  with  much 
success.*  It  was  the  first  sign  of  positive  dis- 
countenance which  WyclifFe  received  from  the 
king,  he  faithfully  obeyed ;  but  even  as  Edward's 
reign  had  been  noble  and  national,  at  least  in  all 
its  better  days,  so  was  Richard's  profligate  and 
timeserving  from  its  beginning  to  its  miserable 
end.  Wycliffe's  trust  in  monarchy,  in  that  one 
principle  of  justice,  was  surely  shaken  before  he 
died.  He  addressed,  at  this  time,  to  Parliament, 
what  he  called  a  "  Complaint,"  setting  forth  the 
claims  of  his  reforms  to  the  confidence  and  support 
of  his  countrymen.f     The   Commons,  more  at- 

*  The  statute  ordered  all  the  king's  magistrates  to  arrest  "  such 
evil  persons,  as  go  from  county  to  county  and  from  town  to  town, 
in  certain  habits,  under  dissimulation  of  great  holiness,  and  without 
the  license  of  the  ordinaries  of  the  places  or  other  sufficient  au- 
thority, preaching  daily,  not  only  in  churches  and  church-yards,  but 
also  in  markets,  fairs  and  other  open  places  where  a  great  congre- 
gation of  peoj)le  is,  divers  sermons  containing  heresies  and  no- 
torious errors,  &c.  to  the  great  peril  of  the  souls  of  the  people  and  of 
all  the  realm  of  England,  &c.  and  to  hold,"  so  the  command  con- 
tinues, "  to  hold  all  such  j)reacliers  in  arrest,  these  and  their  fautors 
and  abettors,  till  they  will  justify  themselves  according  to  the  law 
and  reason  of  holy  church." 

t  There  is  a  plain  account  of  this  Complaint  in  the  7lh  Chapter 
of  Le  lias's  biography. 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  107 

tached  to  WyclifFe  than  to  any  Archbishops  or 
Inquisitors,  made  immediate  petition  to  the  king 
that  the  statute  he  had  pubhslied  "  be  disan- 
nulled," as  "it  was  in  no  wise  their  meaning  that 
either  themselves  or  such  as  shall  succeed  them, 
be  farther  bound  to  the  Prelates  than  were  their 
ancestors  in  former  times."  After  this  honest  de- 
mand of  freedom,  the  statute  was  repealed ;  but 
Archbishop  Courtney  was  not  discouraged,  and 
straightway  summoned  Wycliffe  to  a  Court  of 
Clergy,  before  whom  the  reformer  was  called  upon 
to  make  full  and  humble  submission.  Far  from 
submission  or  retractation,  Wycliffe  defended  his 
reforms,  with  a  spirit  that  won  the  admiration  of 
those  Avho  most  feared  him,  and  all  the  confession 
he  offered  to  make  was  one  which  is  acknowledged 
even  by  his  enemy.  Chronicler  Walsingham,  to 
have  been  a  confession  of  faith,  unchanged  and 
unchangeable.  There  was  no  fear,  no  denial,  no 
shame,  let  chroniclers  say  what  they  will,  in  Wy- 
cliffe's  conduct  or  in  Wycliffe' s  soul.  This  very 
year,  (1382,)  was  published  a  book  called  Tria- 
logus,  in  which  all  the  importance  of  his  doctrines 
was  upheld  with  as  much  earnestness  as  ever. 
One  triumph,  however,  was  certainly  gained  over 
him,  in  his  separation  from  Oxford  by  the  king's 
command.  Poor  king  !  not  poor  Wycliffe  !  His 
voice  might  be  stopped,  but  his  pen  was  left  to 
him  ;  and,  had  that  also  been  taken' away,  there 
was  a  spirit  dwelling  with  him  and  remaining 


108  JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE. 

after  him,  which  no  clergy,  no  king  could  control. 
"  Let  a  man,"  said  he  himself,  "let  a  man  stand 
on  Virtue  and  Truth,  and  all  the  world  overcometh 
him  not."  We  should  think  that  the  peace  of 
Lutterworth  would  have  been  welcome  after  Ox- 
ford sentences  and  London  synods.  There,  in 
the  place  of  his  gentlest  offices,  with  the  help 
of  sturdy  arms  and  honest  hearts,  was  the  repose 
which  he  deserved  in  his  old  age.  It  was  time 
for  him  to 

"  Take  the  fruit  and  let  the  chaf  be  stille." 

One  more  summons  came  to  Wycliflfe,  neither 
from  Oxford  doctors  nor  from  London  bishops, 
but  from  Urban,  pope  of  Rome.  That  the  pope 
would  have  been  glad  to  have  the  reformer  in  his 
power,  and  that  the  reformer  should  have  been 
entirely  unwilling  to  trust  the  pope  at  all,  are 
matters  of  course;  but  there  is  something  in 
Wycliffe's  written  reply  which  we  must  here  re- 
mark. After  "joyfully  telling  all  true  men  the 
belief  that  he  holds  and  allegiance  to  the  Pope," 
— a  belief  and  an  allegiance  which  Urban  would 
scarcely  care  to  claim, — he  proceeds  in  this  wise : 
"  I  suppose  that  the  Pope  be  most  obliged  to  the 
keeping  of  the  Gospel  among  all  men  that  live. 
.  .  .  This  I  take  as  wholesome  counsel,  that  the 
Pope  leave  his  worldly  Lordships  to  worldly 
Lords,  as  Christ  bid  him,  and  move  speedily  all 
his  Clerks  to  do  so :  for  thus  did  Christ  and  taught 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  109 

thus  his  Disciples,  till  the  Fiend  had  blinded  this 
World.  And  if  I  err  in  this  sentence  I  will 
meekly  he  amended,  by  the  Death,  if  it  be  need- 
ful, for  that,  I  hope,  were  good  to  me.  Christ 
hath  taught  me  more  obedience  to  God  than  to 
man."  With  these  words  upon  his  lips,  risen 
there  from  out  a  full  heart,  Wycliffe  went  quietly 
to  Lutterworth,  to  spend  a  few  more  months  of 
life  in  what  he  loved  to  do,  "  teaching,  praying 
and  example-giving."  We  have  yet  to  follow 
him  in  some  of  his  busiest  hours  and  most  ear- 
nest desires. 


The  name  which  Wycliffe  bore  among  the  great 
scholars  around  him,  the  name  of  "Gospel  Doc- 
tor," is  his  chief  claim  to  our  reverence  and  our 
gratitude.  In  an  age  of  scholasticism  and  cor- 
ruption, he  studied  and  loved  the  Scriptures  from 
the  time  he  knew  how  to  study  and  to  love  at  all. 
They  were  to  his  youth,  at  Oxford,  like  springs, 
from  which  he  drew  deep  draughts  to  last  him 
long  through  his  life-time.  The  Bible,  to  him,  was 
a  fountain  of  purity,  by  which  they  who  believed 
in  him  were  cleansed  from  the  impiety  and  des- 
potism of  the  Church  of  Rome.     He  would  so 


110  JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE. 

shape  his  whole  course  upon  earth  after  God's 
guidance,  that  God's  word  should  be  like  "  the 
washing  of  water "  to  his  weary  feet  and  his 
thirsty  soul.  Man  cannot  labor  alone;  and  So- 
crates bewailed,  even  in  the  night  of  heathen- 
ism, that,  "unless  the  Deity  give  us  instruction, 
there  is  no  hope  of  changing  our  lives."  To  a 
Diviner  instruction  than  Socrates  was  able  even 
to  imagine,  WyclifFe  turned  with  an  earnest  and 
a  trustful  spirit.  "In  all  things,"  he  said,  "it 
appears  to  me  that  the  believing  man  should  use 
this  rule,  —  if  he  soundly  understand  the  Sacred 
Scriptures,  let  him  bless  God,  —  if  he  be  deficient 
in  such  a  perception,  let  him  labor  for  soundness 
of  mind."  This  may  be  nothing  new  to  us,  but 
it  was  something  new  to  England  in  1383,  when 
Wycliffe  completed  his  greatest  work,  the  Trans- 
lation of  the  Bible,  the  first  translation  of  the 
Bible  into  the  English  language. 

This  Translation  is  Wyclifie's  declaration  of 
faith  in  God  and  love  for  man.  The  moment  we 
understand  clearly  how  God's  glory  and  man's 
perfection  were  both  carried  forward  by  such  a 
work  as  this  Bible-Translation,  we  shall  also 
comprehend  the  measure  of  Wyclifie's  goodness. 
His  greatness  is  already  established  in  all  Eng- 
lish histories,  which  record,  some  wisely,  some 
unwisely,  the  reforms  he  created  and  continued. 
But  of  Wyclifie's  goodness  scarcely  any  one  has 
spoken   or  written,    as  goodness,   far  more  than 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  Ill 

greatness,  deserves  in  all  men  to  be  remembered. 
If  in  these  rude  words  there  could  be  anything  to 

"  make  this  memory  flower 
With  odors  sweet  though  late," 

it  should  be  their  heartiness  in  describing  the 
work  of  Wycliffe's  age,  the  work  in  which  all  his 
affections,  all  his  virtues,  all  his  prayers  seemed 
to  be  united.  It  is  little  to  say  that  the  Trans- 
lation was  well  done,  that  as  a  mere  contribu- 
tion to  literature  it  brought  new  strength  and 
larger  excellence  into  the  English  language.  It 
is  more  to  say  that  it  was  wonderfully  strange ; 
but  it  would  be  still  better  for  us  silently  to  con- 
ceive the  spirit  in  one  man  with  which  such  a 
work  could  alone  be  accomplished,  and  afterwards 
look  abroad  for  the  influence  it  had  upon  all  other 
men.  The  chronicler  Knyghton  has  something 
here  to  say.  "  This  master  Wycliffe  translated 
the  Bible  out  of  Latin  into  English,  and  thus  laid 
it  more  open  to  the  Laity  and  to  women  who 
could  read,  than  it  had  formerly  been  to  the  most 
learned  of  the  Clergy  ;"  and  this,  written  in  bitter- 
ness and  derision,  is  now  to  be  set  down  in 
Wycliffe's  praise.  The  English  Clergy  were  all 
alarmed  and  angered.  They  declared  the  Trans- 
lation "  forbidden  fruit,"  and  pronounced  it  to  be 
"  heresy  to  speak  of  the  Scriptures  in  English  ;" 
but  the  pure-hearted  man,  whom  they  so  bitterly 
hated,  acknowledged  no  other  heresy  than  heresy 
against  truth,  and  knew  that  the  fruit  he  offered 


112  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

unto  his  countrymen  was  from  the  tree  of  Hfe 
eternal.  The  Scriptures  were  to  Wychffe  a 
greater  lever  than  Archimedes  desired,  to  move 
the  earth.* 

"  The  best  life,  then,  for  Priests  in  this  world," 
said  Wycliffe,  himself,  "is  to  teach  and  spread 
the  Gospel."  The  moral  blessings  it  brought, 
were  in  progress  from  vast,  wavering  reason  to 
pure,  steadfast  conscience,  from  changeful,  hostile 
dogmas  to  one  peaceful  and  immutable  truth. 
The  political  influences, — we  may  speak  of  such, 
surely,  as  are  political,  without  forgetting  that 
there  are  others  far  higher  and  purer,  —  the  po- 
litical influences  of  such  a  work  as  Wycliffe's 
Translation,  were  manifold  as  seeds  sown  for  a 
bountiful  harvest.  The  Scriptures  loosen  chains 
from  body  as  from  soul ;  they  raise  man's  con- 
dition as  they  raise  man's  character ;  they  make 
this  world  wider  and  freer,  by  joining  it  to  the 
world  hereafter.  Where  the  Bible  is,  there  are 
freedom  and  progress  and  knowledge  of  Immor- 
tality. It  is  enough  to  remember  the  words  of 
our  Saviour, — "the  Poor  have  the  Gospel  preached 
to  them," — to  know  what  Wycliffe  did  for  his 
countrymen  and  for  all  mankind,  in  setting  up 
that  "  light  of  the  world,"  which  priests  had 
"  put  under  a  bushel  "  of  their  own.  "  It  is  now 
a  great  sin,"    exclaims  Wycliife,    "not  to  arise 

*  See  a  second  note  at  ttie  close. 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE.  113 

and  to  throw  open  our  windows,  for  this  spiritual 
Light  is  ready  to  shine  unto  all  men  who  will 
open  to  receive  it.  .  .  .  Therefore  let  every  man," 
he  adds,  ''  wisely,  with  meek  prayer  and  great 
study,  and  also  with  charity,  read  the  Words  of 
God."  Such  an  appeal  was  not  in  vain;  the 
words  he  restored  were  read  everywhere,  as  he 
desired,  and  did  more  for  his  cause,  for  all  men's 
cause,  than  any  other  preaching  or  reforming 
could  have  done;  so  that,  as  the  historian  con- 
fesses, "every  second  man  in  the  country  was 
Wychffe's  follower."  Not  only  was  the  Bible 
translated  and  spread  abroad,  but  to  inform  the 
understandings  of  people  scarcely  able  to  read  it 
by  themselves,  WyclifFe  published  a  tract  upon 
the  "  Truth  and  Meaning  of  Scripture."  In  this, 
among  many  things  it  would  do  us  good  to  read, 
are  some  words  to  be  repeated :  "  The  truth  of 
the  Faith  shines  the  more  clearly,  by  how  much 
the  more  it  is  known ;  the  Scripture  is  the  Faith 
of  the  Church,  and  the  more  it  is  known  in  an 
orthodox  sense,  the  better;  therefore,  as  secular 
men  ought  to  know  the  Faith,  so  it  is  to  be  taught 
men  in  whatsoever  language  is  best  known  to 
them."  One  of  the  last  efforts  of  Wycliffe's 
generous  life  was  a  defence  he  made  of  his  Trans- 
lation, before  Parliament,  setting  forth  that  the 
Scriptures  were  '•'the  People's  property,"  and  that 
what  he  had  restored  to  his  countrymen,  had  long 
before  been  given  by  Christ  unto  all  mankind. 


114  JOHN   DE   WYCLIFFE. 

Again,  and  finally,  if  we  remind  ourselves  of 
the  ignorance  which  was  between  men  and  their 
wants,  both  temporal  and  spiritual,  of  the  know- 
ledge and  the  peace  with  which  the  Bible  alone 
was  able  to  "cover  the  earth,"  we  shall  more 
surely  conceive  what  this  Translation,  of  1383, 
must  have  done.  One  hundred  and  fifty  years, 
too,  before  Luther's  time !  One  hundred  and  fifty 
shades  deeper  of  darkness  upon  the  world  than 
were  above  Luther's  eyes !  It  is  but  common 
gratitude  to  confess  the  name  which  was  long 
ago  given  to  Wycliffe  as  "  the  Morning-star  of 
the  Reformation  ;  "  it  is  but  common  devotion  to 
thank  God  that  the  fourteenth  century  was  not 
too  dim,  too  vaporsome,  for  that  morning  light  to 
break  in  and  shine  upon. 


VL 


The  great  hopes  for  which  Wycliffe,  like  any 
true  reformer,  toiled,  were  Faith  and  Liberty,  kin- 
dred in  progress,  in  power,  and  in  truth.  His 
reforms  were  chiefly  connected  with  the  Church, 
but  according  to  his  conception  of  the  word, 
rather  the  body  Church,  they  would  have  large 
influence  in  all  places  and  with  all  men.  He 
could  not  make  Church-Freedom  holy  without 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE.  115 

making  State-Freedom  dear ;  he  could  not  estab- 
lish Faith  in  Church  without  establishing  what 
it  is  not  here  irreverent  to  call  Faith  in  State. 
Liberty  strengthened  and  Faith  purified,  for  these 
he  lived,  and  these,  bound  together  on  earth,  were 
together  the  golden  chain  by  which  earth  was  to 
be  bound  to  Heaven. 

" Claims  from  other  worlds  inspirited 


The  Star  of  Liberty  to  rise.     Nor  yet 

(Grave  this  within  thy  heart !)  if  spiritual  things 

Be  lost,  through  apathy,  or  scorn,  or  fear, 

Shalt  thou  thy  humbler  franchises  support. 

However  hardly  won  or  justly  dear : 

What  came  from  Heaven  to  Heaven  by  nature  clings." 

We  remember  that  Wycliffe  has  never  yet  dis- 
turbed Civil  Authority  in  England.  His  respect 
towards  Lords  has  been  quite  as  remarkable  as 
his  rebuke  of  Clerks  and  Priests  and  Friars.  One 
reason  for  this  submission  was  that  he  needed  aid 
in  working  out  his  great  Church  reforms.  With- 
out such  friends  as  the  Queen  or  Lancaster,  he 
might  have  met  the  martyrdom  of  which  he  often 
spoke  as  very  near  to  him.  Edward  was  his 
king  and  friend,  and  gave  to  him  not  only  the 
Lutterworth  Rectory,  but  the  place  of  Royal 
Chaplain.  Yet  we  are  not  to  believe  that  Wy- 
cliffe was  silent  about  State-reforms  merely  be- 
cause he  owed  anything  to  King,  Queen,  or 
Lords  of  England.  He  was  neither  a  violent  nor 
an  extreme  reformer,  but  considerate  as  well  as 
earnest,  in  all  he  did  and  all  he  refrained  from 


116  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

doing.  His  earnestness  is  so  plain,  that  his  con- 
siderateness  has  been  constantly  doubted.  But  if 
any  works  or  any  words  of  Wycliffe  seem  contra- 
dictory to  the  prudence  and  the  calmness  which  we 
would  like  to  acknowledge  in  him,  there  must  be 
made  a  greater  allowance  for  the  temper  of  his 
age  than  for  the  temper  of  his  own  mind.  His 
life  is  a  beautiful  example  of  the  wisdom  that 
there  is  in  keeping  from  new  evils  while  escaping 
from  old  ones.  Had  his  days  been  prolonged  be- 
yond any  mortal  period,  he  might  have  fulfilled 
all  the  purposes  of  his  heart ;  but,  short-lived  and 
weak-armed  as  he  was,  he  could  only  make  a 
beginning,  to  which,  even  in  our  time,  the  end  is 
not  yet  come.  Most  of  the  great  evils  about  him 
had  their  root  in  the  Church  of  Rome.  He  believed 
that,  if  the  church  Avere  purified  and  expanded, 
the  whole  world  would  be  brightened  and  in- 
creased ;  but,  to  fulfil  such  a  belief,  he  had  need 
of  man's  assistance  through  God's  blessing.  Hea- 
ven was  open  to  his  soul,  and  it  was  by  heavenly 
knowledge  and  heavenly  gentleness  that  the  confi- 
dence of  his  fellow-men  was  most  surely  to  be 
acquired.  He  accepted  whatever  was  good  and 
strong  in  the  principles  of  King  or  Lords,  as  aid 
to  him  against  the  evil  and  the  decay  which  were 
in  the  principles  of  Pope  and  Priests.  It  would 
not  at  any  time  be  reasonable  or  humane  to  set 
up  an  individual  opposition  against  all  conmion 
theories  and  all  common  practices;  but,  in  such 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE.  117 

times  as  Wycliffe's,  indiscriminate  hostility  to  all 
men  and  all  things  would  have  been  a  howl  of  de- 
fiance rather  than  a  pledge  of  reform.  How  large 
Wycliffe's  aims  really  were,  is  at  once  compre- 
hended after  reading  these  words  from  himself  or 
from  one  of  his  nearest  followers  :  "  When  men 
speak  of  Holy  Church,  they  understand  anon 
Prelates  and  Priests,  Canons  and  Friars  and  all 
men  that  have  [shaven]  crowns,  though  they  live 
never  so  cursedly  against  God's  Law;  and  they 
call  not  nor  hold  secular  men  to  be  of  Holy 
Church,  though  they  live  never  so  truly  after 
God's  Law  and  end  in  perfect  charity,  —  and 
here  lieth  the  error  of  the  world."  Such  a  desire 
that  all  men  should  be  brought  into  a  Christian 
life,  was  too  pure,  too  peaceful,  to  be  joined  with 
any  other  labor  than  labor  against  the  wrong 
from  which  men  were  suffering.  Some  around 
Wycliffe  knew,  some  did  not  know,  the  sources  of 
their  suffering  and  the  ends  of  his  labor ;  but  his 
whole  life  was  the  expression  of  many  other  lives, 
silent  to  us,  yet  not  unanswering  to  him.  Wy- 
cliffe, even  the  reformer,  was  never  "  one  of  the 
Antipodes  to  tread  opposite  to  the  present  world." 
The  Council  of  Constance  condemned  what 
would  still  be  called  a  seditious  doctrine  of  "  Do- 
minion founded  on  Grace,"  — according  to  which 
the  authority  of  king,  noble,  or  magistrate  would 
be  utterly  forfeited  by  any  personal  or  public  evil- 
doing,  —  and  this  was  condemned  as  having  been 


118  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

maintained  by  WyclifFe  against  all  acknowleged 
order,  all  acknowledged  law.  But  it  was  very 
far  from  his  purposes  to  have  assailed  the  powers 
upon  which  he  and  his  national  principles  depend- 
ed. No  principle,  no  power,  no  purpose  could 
make  him  time-serving  or  insincere.  When  he 
began,  as  he  must  have  begun,  to  despair  of  suc- 
cess, even  in  Church  reform,  he  turned  more 
earnestly  to  meet  the  wants  of  truth  and  justice 
which  he  could  distinguish  everywhere  around 
him.  Two  years  before  he  died,  he  published  a 
tract  upon  the  "  Duty  of  Lords,"  in  which  he 
enters  into  interests  of  State  as  well  as  of  Church, 
expressing  his  conviction  concerning  the  union 
between  these  interests,  both  alike  human,  in  a 
demand  upon  "  Lords  and  Magistrates,"  that 
"  they  may  constrain  Clerks  to  live  in  meekness, 
wilful  poverty,  discreet  penance,  and  ghostly 
travail."  It  is  in  the  same  tract  that  he  declares 
the  good  things  which  will  be  gained,  universally, 
by  doing  away  with  the  evil  things  which  the 
Church  allowed.  "  Lords,"  he  says  also,  "  should 
know  God's  Law,  and  study  to  maintain  it," 
which  was  much  to  be  said  at  that  lawless  period ; 
but  in  another  of  Wycliife's  tracts  there  is  said, 
even  more  strongly,  "  if  temporal  Lords  do  wrongs 
and  extortions  to  the  people,  they  are  traitors 
to  God  and  His  people."  The  spirit  of  all  these 
words  is  this,  that  the  Christian  Magistrate  should 
be  a  Magistrate  in  the  Church  and  a  Magistrate 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  119 

over  the  People ;  or,  according  to  his  own  trans- 
lation of  the  Psalms,  "Ye  Kynges,  imderstonde  : 
ye  that  demen  [judge]  the  erthe,  be  lernid :  serve 
ye  to  the  Lord  with  dreed :  and  make  ye,  fuul 
cute,  joie  to  Him  witli  tremblynge." 

The  frequency  with  which  English  parliaments 
were  summoned  through  the  greater  part  of  Wy- 
cliffe's  life-time,  and  the  repeated  harmony  be- 
tween his  opinions  and  their  petitions,  deserve  to 
be  remembered.  The  only  expression,  which 
parliaments  were  then  able  to  give  to  popular 
opinion,  would  not  now  seem  much  to  us,  but  it 
was  something  to  WyclifFe,  a  support  and  an  en- 
couragement to  him.  Throughout  the  last  half 
of  Edward's  reign,  WyclifFe  is  very  prominent  in 
common  civil  history,  and  it  was  not  until  later 
in  Richard's  vexatious  reign,  that  Wycliffe's  prin- 
ciples and  Edward's,  also,  were  abandoned.  Any 
one  of  Wycliffe's  reforms,  secular  or  ecclesiastical, 
will  be  found  to  express  in  all  its  fulness  the 
spirit  of  nationality,  that  is,  of  freedom  and  pro- 
gress, which  was  just  aroused  in  England. 

Among  Wycliffe's  most  earnest  opinions.  Chris- 
tian and  political,  both  in  one,  was  his  strong- 
hearted  condemnation  of  war.  If  men  are  to  be 
judged  after  their  own  times  and  not  after  ours, 
we  must  remember  that  Wycliffe  lived  in  a  feudal 
age.  It  is  plain  enough  for  us  to  lament  the  wars 
which  have  sprung  up,  like  monsters  born  of  blood 
and  fire,  in  later  years ;  but  it  was  not  so  plain 


120  JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE. 

for  WyclifFe  to  speak  words  of  peace  in  times 
which  werfe  full  of  strife  and  wrong.  Chivalry, 
which  declared  it  "lawful  to  annoy  an  enemy 
just  as  one  can,"  had  made  blood-shed  honorable 
to  men's  eyes;  Edward's  victories  in  France  had 
set  England  in  a  blaze  which  heaven's  showers 
could  only  extinguish  from  men's  hearts.  There- 
fore it  was  brave,  nay,  more,  therefore  it  was 
Christian  for  Wycliffe  to  declare,  that  to  all  this 
glory,  "  the  charity  of  Christ  biddeth  the  con- 
trary." "  Angels  withstood  fiends,"  he  exclaimed 
again,  "  and  many  men  with  right  of  Law  with- 
stand their  Enemies,  and  yet  they  kill  them  not, 
neither  fight  with  them."  With  bitterness  of 
spirit,  than  which  no  philanthropist  of  our  times 
seems  to  have  felt  greater,  he  asks,  "  What  honor 
falls  to  a  knight  that  he  kills  many  men?  the 
hangman  killeth  many  more,  and  with  a  better 
title;  better  were  it  for  men  to  be  butchers  of 
swine  than  slayers  of  their  brethren."  That 
question  has  never  had  an  answer,  and  we  can 
reflect  now  that  it  was  asked  long  before  preach- 
ers of  peace  began  to  speak  to  men  of  the  shame 
of  unchristian  wars. 

There  were  two  popes,  it  will  be  remembered, 
at  this  time,  one  in  Rome  and  another  in  Avignon. 
Urban,  pope  of  Rome,  stirred  by  wrath,  resolved 
to  make  one  desperate  effort  against  Clement, 
pope  of  Avignon.  To  this  end,  he  sought  the  aid 
of  England,  selccthig  that  nation  as  his  champion 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE.  121 

against  France  which  adhered  to  his  adversary. 
More  than  thirty  bulls,  to  king,  lords,  prelates, 
priests  and  people,  were  sent  from  Rome,  not  only 
absolving  "  from  all  crime  or  fault,  every  one  who 
would  assist  in  the  destruction  of  the  Clementists," 
but  likewise  ordering,  "as  men-at-arms  cannot 
live  on  pardons,"  that  the  English  Church  should 
raise  from  its  own  revenues  some  moneys  to  de- 
fray the  necessities  of  this  "holy"  enterprise,* 
which  was  preached  throughout  England  "  in  the 
manner  of  a  Crusade."  The  people,  willing  to 
believe  what  they  were  told,  that  "  none  of  either 
sex  should  end  the  year  happily  nor  have  any 
chance  of  entering  paradise,  if  they  did  not  give 
handsomely  to  the  expedition  as  pure  alms,"  con- 
tributed their  money  and  their  service.  A  bishop 
of  Norwich,  "  young  and  eager  and  wishing  to 
bear  arms,"  was  made  commander,  as  the  pope's 
representative,  and,  followed  by  knights,  soldiers 
and  "multitudes  of  priests,"  he  went  over  to 
France  and  Flanders  in  the  spring  of  1383.  It 
was  not  long  after,  that  commander  and  soldiers  all 
returned  together,  without  any  other  glory  than 
that  of  having  done  something,  as  they  would  never 
have  wished  to  do,  towards  weakening  the  power 


*  It  is  impossible  not  to  repeat  a  question  Wycliffe  put  to  all 
Christendom.  "  Why  will  not  the  proud  Priest  of  Rome  grant  full 
pardon  to  all  men  for  to  live  in  peace  and  charity  and  patience,  as 
he  doth  to  all  men  to  fight  and  slay  Christian  men  ?  " 


122  JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE. 

which  their  pope  was  losing  fast.  Wychffe  had 
already  cried,  in  loud  voice  and  threatening  spirit, 
"  Why  is  not  he  a  fiend,  stained  foul  with  homi- 
cide, who,  though  a  Priest,  fights  in  such  a  cause  ? 
.  .  .  Christ  taught  not  his  Apostles  to  fight  with 
a  sword  of  iron,  but  with  the  sword  of  God's 
Word,  which  standeth  in  meekness  of  heart  and 
in  the  prudence  of  man's  tongue."  He  was  him- 
self a  meek  and  a  prudent  man,  but  it  was  not  for 
him  to  fear  venturing  out  in  such  storms  as  were 
blowing  over  the  world.  Once  more  he  exclaims, 
and  the  words  sound  like  his  last :  "  The  Captain 
of  our  Battle  is  Christ,  and  what  good  knight 
should  dread  him  to  fight  in  the  Armies  of  the 
Lord?" 


VII. 

Wyclifte  s  fight  "in  the  armies  of  the  Lord" 
was  over,  and  a  stainless  victory  was  gained 
through  him  for  all  mankind.  The  last  months 
of  his  life  were  spent  at  Lutterworth.  Forbidden 
to  preach  at  Oxford,  and  rejected  by  King  and 
Priests  of  England,  there  was  no  other  place  than 
his  peaceful  Rectory,  which  seemed  to  need  or  to 
acknowledge  him.  He  knew,  in  peace  or  strife, 
that  he  had  been  true  to  his  work  on  earth,  true 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  123 

to  his  hope  in  Heaven,  and  that  what  he  had  done 
was  not  done  in  vain.  "  Truly  aware  I  am,"  he 
said,  "  truly  aware  I  am  that  the  Doctrine  of  the 
Gospel  may,  for  a  season,  be  trampled  under  foot, 
that  it  may  be  overpowered  in  high  places  and 
even  suppressed  by  the  threatenings  of  Anti- 
Christ  ;  but  equally  sure  I  am  that  it  shall  never 
be  extinguished,  for  it  is  the  recording  of  Truth 
itself.  '  Heaven  and  Earth  shall  pass  away,  but 
so  shall  not  my  words.'  " 

Wycliffe  was  struck  with  paralysis  in  church  as 
he  was  saying  mass,  and  died,  two  days  after,  on 
the  31st  December,  1384.  He  was  sixty  years 
old,  "Admirable,"  says  old  Fuller,  "that  a  hare 
so  often  hunted,  with  so  many  packs  of  dogs, 
should  die,  at  last,  quietly  sitting  in  his  form." 
More  admirable,  we  should  say,  that  the  laborer 
should  not  be  taken  from  the  vineyard  until  he 
had  filled  it  full  with  vines  of  promise,  both  tem- 
poral and  eternal. 

Wycliife  passed  away,  but  the  labor  of  his  life 
has  endured.  In  the  midst  of  persecutions  and 
recantations,  his  reforms  remained  to  enrich  all 
present  and  increase  all  future  times.  The  voice 
of  one  among  his  disciples,  Lord  Cobham,  still 
gives  its  testimony:  "As  for  that  virtuous  man, 
Wycliife,  I  shall  say  here,  of  my  part,  both  before 
God  and  man,  that  before  I  knew  that  despised 
Doctrine  of  his,  I  never  abstained  from  sin.     But 


124  JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE. 

since  I  learned  therein  to  fear  my  Lord  God,  it 
hath  otherwise,  I  trust,  been  with  me."  Through 
WycUffe,  we  will  trust  it  hath  been  otherwise 
with  us  all. 

The  oath  which  some  of  Wycliffe's  followers 
were  obliged  to  take  before  a  persecuting  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  is  a  fit  commentary  upon  all  the 
doctrines  he  maintained,  and  all  the  doctrines  to 
which  he  was  opposed.  "  I,  before  you,  worship- 
ful father  and  Lord  Archbishop  of  York  and  your 
Clergy,  with  my  free  will  and  full  advised,  swear 
to  God  and  to  all  His  saints,  upon  this  Holy  Gos- 
pel, that,  from  this  day  forthward,  I  shall  worship 
images  with  praying  and  oifering  unto  them  in 
the  worship  of  the  Saints  that  they  be  made  after, 
—  and  also,  I  shall  never  more  despise  Pilgrimages 
nor  states  of  Holy  Church  in  no  degree,  ^ — and 
also,  I  shall  be  buxom  to  the  Laws  of  Holy 
Church  and  to  yours,  to  mine  Archbishop  and 
mine  other  Ordinaries  and  Curates,  and  keep  the 
Laws  upon  my  power  and  maintain  them — and 
also,  I  shall  never  more  maintain  nor  teach  nor 
defend  errors,  conclusions,  nor  teachings  of  the 
Lollards."  *  We  do  not  need  much  more  than 
this  to  make  us  grateful  to  our  old  English  re- 
former. 


*  A  sorry  name  given  to  Wycliffe's  followers.    See  a  third  note  at 
the  close. 


JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE.  125 

Four  and  forty  years  after  Wycliffe  was  buried 
at  Lutterworth,  tfeere  came  to  his  grave  some 
"Officials"  charged  by  a  poor  Bishop  of  Lincoln, 
whose  name  need  not  be  repeated,  with  executing 
an  order  of  the  Constance  Council,  issued  in  1415, 
thirteen  years  before.  Such  was  the  spleen  of 
this  Council,  says  Fuller,  the  ancient  Church  his- 
torian, "such  was  their  spleen,  as  they  not  only 
cursed  his  memory  as  dying  an  obstinate  heretic, 
but  ordered  that  his  bones  be  taken  out  of  the 
grounds  and  thrown  far  off  from  any  Christian 
burial  .  .  .  To  Lutterworth  they  come,"  con- 
tinues the  historian  with  pathetic  quaintness,  "to 
Lutterworth  they  come,  Sumner,  Commissary, 
Official,  Chancellor,  Proctors,  Doctors  and  the  ser- 
vants, (so  that  the  remnant  of  the  body  would  not 
hold  out  a  bone  amongst  so  many  hands,)  take 
what  was  left  out  of  the  grave  and  burnt  them  to 
ashes  and  cast  them  into  Swift,  a  neighboring 
brook  running  hard  by.  Thus  this  brook  has 
conveyed  his  ashes  into  Avon,  Avon  into  Severn, 
Severn  into  the  narrow  Seas,  they  into  the  main 
Ocean;  and  thus  the  ashes  of  Wycliffe  are  the 
emblem  of  his  Doctrine,  which  is  now  dispersed 
all  the  world  over."  It  is  only  needful  to  add, 
that,  from  Wycliffe  to  John  Huss  the  German, 
from  Huss  to  Girolamo  Savonarola  the  Italian, 
and  from  Savonarola  to  Martin  Luther  the  World- 
Reformer,  there  arc  but  the  changes  of  men  mor- 


126  JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE. 

tally  perishing,  but  bearing  on  the  great  principles 
of  Faith  and  Liberty,  wliich  are  imperishable. 

"  Lord  with  what  care  hast  thou  begirt  us  round  ! 

Bibles  laid  open,  millions  of  surprises, 
Blessings  beforehand,  ties  of  gratefulness, 

The  sound  of  glory  ringing  in  our  ears  ; 

Without,  our  shame,  within,  our  consciences  ; 
Angels  and  Grace,  eternal  hopes  and  fears." 


NOTES. 


Note  to  page  71. 

It  may  be  as  well  to  tell  the  whole  story  about  Canterbury 
Hall,  because  Wycliffe's  enemies  constantly  brought  it  to  bear 
against  him.  The  college  was  founded  for  eleven  scholars,  of  whom 
three,  with  the  warden,  were  to  be  taken  from  Christ  Church  mon- 
astery, at  Canterbury,  while  the  other  eight  were  to  be  clerks  or  sim- 
ple scholars.  The  first  warden  was  a  monk  named  Woodhall,  who 
turned  out  to  be  so  violent  in  office,  that  the  college  was  in  constant 
tumult.  So  the  founder  himself,  Archbishop  Islep,  removed  him 
and  all  the  three  monks,  giving  their  places  to  clerks,  and  inviting 
Wycliffe  to  become  warden.  But  Archbishop  Islep  soon  died,  and 
■was  succeeded  by  Peter  Langham  (then  Bishop  of  Ely,)  who  had  been 
a  monk  himself,  and  whose  sympathies  were  all  in  favor  of  the 
monks  lately  ejected  from  Canterbury  Hall.  Woodhall  and  his 
three  brethren  were  restored  to  their  posts,  and  to  make  way  for 
them,  Wycliffe  and  his  three  clerks  were  ejected.  These  last  ap- 
pealed to  the  pope,  but  the  matter  ended  in  their  removal  being  con- 
firmed, not  only  by  the  pope,  (1370,)  but,  what  seems  very  strange,  by 
the  king.  Wycliffe  submitted  in  peace,  but  all  his  hostile  chroni- 
clers declare  that  this  sentence  drove  him  to  rebel  against  the  au- 
thority of  Rome.  Believe  no  such  unworthy  charge.  Long  before 
the  pope  confirmed  Archbishop  Langham's  proceedings  with  regard 
to  the  college,  (1370,)  Wycliffe  had  not  only  published  his  "Last 
Ageof  the  Church  (13oG)andhis  "  Objections  to  Friars"  (1360,)  but 
even  while  he  still  held  the  wardenship,  (1366,)  he  had  defended 
the  refusal  of  parliament  to  acknowledge  the  pope's  claims  to 
tribute.  It  is  a  main  object  with  us  to  acknowledge  Wycliffe's 
sincerity. 


128  JOHN   DE    WYCLIFFE. 

Note  to  page  112. 
Without  wishing  to  crowd  so  small  a  volume   as  this  with  un- 
necessary details,  it  is  most  earnestly  my  desire  to  make  Wycliffe's 
labor  for  the  Scriptures  plainer  than  most  of  those  writing  about 
him  have  chosen  to  do.     It  was  his  great  labor,  his  labor  of  true 
love,  and  does   entirely  deserve  to   be  comprehended.     With  this 
purpose,  I  have  gathered  into  a  brief  note  some  extracts  from  his 
own  writings,  bearing  against  the  spirit  which  all  his  writings  were 
intended  to  overcome.     The  amusements  of  the  Clergy  and  the  oc- 
cupations of  Scholars  in  his  time  have  been  already  described.    But 
it  has  not  yet  perhaps  been  made  clear  that  the  point  farthest  re- 
moved from  both  scholastic   and  clerical  pursuits  was  the  study  of 
the  Scriptures.     The  one  Volume,  dearest  to  our  hearts,  was  nearly 
closed  to  human  hopes,  and  human  fears,  when  WyclifTe  came  into 
the  world.     The  only  places,  in  which   the  Bible  was  ever  opened, 
were  in   universities   or  monasteries,  and  even  there  it  was  often 
rejected,  because,  we  will  hope,   it  was  a  book  unknown.    "  He," 
says    Roger    Bacon,    "  who    lectures  upon    the    Scriptures    must 
give    place    to    him   who   lectures   upon  the   Sentences,*    for  this 
one   will    everywhere  have   honor   and  precedence."     The   names 
of  great    divines    and    scholars,    in    the    Dark    Ages,  —  Sublime, 
Incontrovertible,   Seraphic,   Angelic,  —  are  signs  of  so  much  scho- 
lasticism, that  is,  of  so   much  pursuit  after  things   merely   intel- 
lectual.    There  was  no   common   union  between  learning  and  hu- 
manity, none  between  knowledge  and  charily ;  the  educated  were 
not  even  generally  good,  nor  were  the  good  even  generally  educated. 
One   evil  doubt   which   really   prevailed    about   the   possibility  of 
villeins  or  serfs  being  received  in  Heaven,  is  simpler  than  any  long 
account  could  he,  in  making  us  feel  how  often  good  hearts  and  wise 
heads  must  have  been  unnaturally  separated.     The  Scriptures  were 
either  neglected,  because   they    were   unknown,   or   else  forbidden, 
because  the  precepts    they  declared,  were   far  from  the  practices  in 
which   men,   and   even   priests,   were   willing  to   abide.     "  This," 
writes  Wycliffe,  "  do  our  High  Priests  mark  well ;  lest  the  Truth  of 
God's  Law,  hid  in  the  Sepulchre,  break  out  to   the  knowing  of  the 
Common  People.     O  Christ !    Thy  Law  is  thus  hidden  now  ;  when 
wilt  Thou   send   Thine  .\ngel  to  remove  the  Stone  and  show  Thy 
Truth  unto  Thy  Flock  ?  " 

In  the   very  earliest   tract  which   WyclifTe   published  among  the 

*  Peter  Lombard's  'book  of  Sentences,' — a  fanciful  collectioa 
of  dogmatic  propositions  drawn  from  various  Church-Fathers. 


JOHN    DE    WYCLIFFE.  129 

people,  in  the  "  Last  Age  of  the  Church,"  he  sets  forth  tlie  example 
after  which  his  whole  life  was  then  determined:  "Jesus  Christ, 
enteriuL'  into  holy  things,  that  is,  into  holy  Church,  by  holy  Living 
and  holy  Teaching."  Another  work  upon  the  Commandments 
[Exposiiio  Decalogi]  illustrates  VVycliffe's  teaching  of  the  Scriptures, 
at  that  time,  when,  as  he  writes  himself,  it  was  nothing  uncommon 
for  men  to  "  call  God  '  Master,'  two,  three,  or  fourscore  years,  an'' 
yet  to  remain  ignorant  of  His  Commandments."  After  other  wordi 
of  introduction,  WyclilTe  begins  to  comment  upon  the  Command- 
ments in  the  Old  Testament.  The  purpose  of  the  whole  tract  is 
simple  explanation  of  such  among  the  Commandments  as  were  not 
clear  to  his  countrymen  ;  and  the  manner  in  which  he  was  wont  to 
do  this  may  be  taken  from  another  tract  containing  the  following 
exposition  of  the  first  among  the  Ten.  "  What  thing  a  man  loveth 
most,  that  thing  he  maketh  his  god.  .  .  .  And  thus  when  man  or 
woman  forsaketh  Meekness,  the  Meekness  which  Christ  Jesus 
commandeth,  and  giveth  himself  to  Highness  and  Pride,  he  maketh 
the  Fiend  his  god,  ...  or  using  deadly  sin,  he  breaketh  this  first 
Commandment,  worshipping  false  gods."  "Let  every  man,"  he 
writes  in  the  Expositio  Decalogi,  "let  every  man  and  woman  who 
desires  to  come  to  the  Life  that  lasts  forever,  do  his  business,  with 
all  strength  of  Body  and  Soul,  to  keep  God's  Commandments."  In 
his  tract  upon  the  Papal  Schism,  already  mentioned,  are  these 
words,  connected  with  his  Scriptural  labors  ;  "  they,  the  priests, 
must  learn  their  Logic  and  their  Philosophy  well,  lest  they  prove 
heretical  by  a  false  understanding  of  the  Law  of  Christ  .  .  .  and 
this  Freedom,"  he  said  in  one  of  his  sermons,  "  this  Freedom  Christ 
gave  to  men  that  they  might  come  to  Heaven's  bliss  with  least  diffi- 
culty ;  .  .  .  and  we,"  he  continues  in  still  another  place,  "  we  cannot 
so  much  as  think  a  good  Thought,  unless  Jesus,  the  Angel  of  great 
Counsel,  send  it  ;  nor  perform  a  good  Work,  unless  it  be  properly 
His  good  Work." 

But  even  this  note  would  be  made  too  long,  were  it  filled  fuller 
with  extracts  significative  of  Wycliffe's  confidence  in  the  Scriptures. 
The  clearest  proof  of  this  confidence  is  in  just  such  words  as  have 
been  quoted,  so  openly  do  they  show  the  knowledge  he  possessed 
and  the  ends  to  which  that  knowledge  was  turned.  He  could 
neither  have  spoken  of  God's  Law,  nor  of  Christ's  Life,  nor  of 
man's  duty,  as  he  does  here,  had  he  not  given  up  mind  and  heart  to 
purer  studies  and  higher  thoughts  than  were  followed  by  most  men 
around  hiin.  One  more  extract  from  his  writings  is  added,  because 
9 


130  JOHN    DE    TTYCLIFFE. 

it  so  sets  forth  the  life,  which  Wycliffe  early  chose,  and  to  vrhich  he 
was  continually  faithful.  "  Good  Priests,  who  live  well  in  purity  of 
Tnought  and  Speech  and  Deed,  and  in  good  Elxample  to  ihe  People, 
who  teach  the  Law  of  God,  up  to  their  knowledge,  and  labor  fast, 
day  and  night,  to  learn  it  better  and  teach  it  openly  and  constantly, 
these  are  the  very  Prophets  of  God  .  .  .  and  the  Spiritual  Lights  of 
the  world.  .  .  .  Think,  then,  ye  Priests  on  this  noble  office,  and 
honor  it,  and  do  it  cheerfully  according  to  your  Knowledge  and  your 
Power."  As  Wycliffe  declared  at  Lambeth,  before  the  English 
clergy,  and  in  Parliament,  before  the  English  people :  "  These  are 
the  conclusions,  which  I  will  defend  unto  the  death.'" 

As  a  specimen  of  Wycliffes  Translation,  I  have  taken  from  Ba- 
hers  edition,  (printed  in  ISIO,)  the  verses  of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel, 
which  contain  the  Beatitudes. 

•'  Blessid  be  pore  men  in  spirit ;  for  the  kyngdom  of  hevenes  is  her- 
un.  Blessid  ben  ihei  that  mournen  ;  for  thei  schalen  be  coumforled. 
Blessid  ben  mylder  men  ;  for  thei  schalen  weelde  the  erthe.  Bless- 
id ben  thei  that  hungren  and  thirsten  rightwisnesse  ;  for  thei  schal 
be  fulfilled.  Blessid  ben  merciful  men  ;  for  thei  schal  gete  mercy. 
Blessid  ben  thei  that  ben  of  clene  herle  ;  for  thei  schalen  se  God. 
Blessid  hen  pesible  men  ;  for  thei  schalen  be  clepid  Goddis  chil- 
dren. Blessid  ben  thei  that  suffren  persecucioun  for  rightwisnesse ; 
for  the  kyngdom  of  hevenes  is  herun.  Ye  schal  be  blessid  whenne 
men  schal  curse  you,  and  schal  pursue  you,  and  schal  seye  al  yvel 
agens  you  liynge  for  me.  Joie  ye  and  be  ye  glade  ;  for  your  meede 
is  plenteous  in  hevenes." 

Note  to  page  124. 

I  have  not  thought  any  account  of  the  later  Lollards  or  of  their 
persecutions  needed ;  because  it  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  they 
do  not  deserve  to  be  considered  as  Wycliffe's  followers.  While  the 
reformer  was  alive,  his  Poor  Priests  and  his  people  lived  together 
amon?  other  men  in  the  peace  which  he  constantly  preached  to  them. 
But  when  he  died,  when,  three  years  after,  his  writings  were  for- 
bidden by  royal  statute,  and,  still  more,  when  a  new  king,  Henry 
the  Fourth,  consented  that  "heretics"  should  be  burned  alive,  it 
appears  as  if  the  purposes  of  the  Lollards,  become  violent  and  fa- 
natical, had  been  changed  by  circumstances  changing  about  them. 
It  was  enough  to  fulfil  the  promises  which  Wycliffe  had  given,  that 
bis  faith  and  his  energj-  were  preserved  in  some  honest  and  unal- 
terable hearts. 


THE  IlEFORMS  OF  SAVONAROLA. 


1189-1498. 


[TZuJiis]    iv   /Luyotg     xtiiiivy],   iml   yijg  ye   ov5afiov   oluai    uvri^t 


A  State  which  exists  only  in  design,  for  I  do  not  believe  its  like 
to  be  upon  the  Earth. 

Plato.  [Republic,  Book  IX.] 


The  perfect  State  and  the  perfect  Church  are  identical. 

Arnold.  [Inaugural  Lecture.] 


THE  REFORMS  OF  SAVONAROLA. 


I. 


Far  away  —  and  long  ago  —  were  the  scenes 
we  would  seek  in  that  still  blooming  Florence, 
which  Charles  the  Emperor  declared  "  too  pleas- 
ant to  be  looked  on,  but  only  on  holidays."  One 
bright  afternoon  of  a  spring,  three  hundred  and 
fifty  years  gone  by,  on  the  Palm-Sunday  of  1496, 
a  long  procession  that  we  would  follow  ourselves, 
is  moving  through  the  city.  By  the  banks  of 
swift-flowing  Arno,  on  broad,  sunshiny  squares, 
in  narrow  streets  overshadowed  by  lofty  pal- 
aces, everywhere  beneath  that  southern  sky,  we 
shall  find,  spread  out  in  crowds,  a  light-heart- 
ed and  impulsive  people.  There  are  nobles  of 
ancient  name,  merchants  of  recent  wealth,  arti- 
sans of  lusty  bearing,  and  women  of  stately  steps 
and  brilliant  eyes.  The  festival  seems  to  be  one, 
in  which  all  are  sharing  equally,  and  they  tell  us 


134  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

that  it  is  to  represent  the  entry  of  Christ  into 
Jerusalem.  Church-bells  ring  in  boisterous  har- 
mony, while  sounds  of  psalm-singing  are  mingled 
with  the  murmurs  of  a  rejoicing  multitude.  Eight 
thousand  children,  wearing  red  crosses  and  hold- 
ing olive  branches,  come  grouped  around  a  taber- 
nacle covered  with  sacred  images.  Priests  and 
monks,  citizens  and  even  armed  soldiers  follow 
on,  all  chanting  fervently  some  holy  airs.  Girls, 
in  white  robes  wreathed  with  flowers,  a  train  of 
pure  and  budding  creatures  themselves,  walk 
after,  and  behind  these  are  their  sisters  and 
mothers  in  so  great  numbers,  that  the  long  lines 
are  closed  and  filled  with  women.  Such  as  stand 
by  catch  the  enthusiasm  they  behold,  and  a  vehe- 
ment friar  cries  aloud  that  the  glory  of  Paradise  is 
descended  upon  the  earth.  Here  and  there  the 
procession  lingers  to  join  in  chant  and  solemn 
dance  about  the  tabernacle  which  the  children 
bear  ;  and  when  it  reaches  the  cathedral,  each  one 
pauses  in  succession  to  bend  his  knee  before  the 
altar  and  recite  his  prayers.  There  must  have 
been  some  wonderful  influence  to  move  not  the 
surface  only,  but  the  very  depths  of  devotion  in 
these  careless  Florentines.  Even  they,  who  look 
on  coldly,  seem  to  respect  feelings  most  contrary 
to  their  own.  The  insolence  of  nobles  and  the 
turbulence  of  citizens  are  banished,  at  least  on  this 
unwonted  holiday.  We  follow  the  throng  in 
peace  from  the  cathedral  to  St.  Mark's  square, 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  135 

where  stands  the  convent  of  the  same  name. 
There  the  people  pause  and  give  passionate  greet- 
ing to  a  monk  just  coming  from  the  convent-door. 
It  is  easy  to  see  that  this  is  no  ordinary  man.  His 
countenance  is  thin  and  worn  away,  but  above  it 
rises  an  abundant  brow,  and  from  full,  glowing 
eyes  shines  forth  the  light  of  a  great  soul.  Men, 
women,  and  children  are  hushed  to  hear  him  speak 
of  truth  and  love,  in  words  that  kindle  and  sub- 
due, by  turns,  their  listening  hearts.  In  him  the 
people  of  Florence  acknowledge  their  great  man, 
their  reformer,  their  teacher,  Savonarola.  The 
ceremonies  so  briefly  described,  were  done  at  his 
orders  and  with  his  directions.  Now,  that  he 
ceases  to  speak,  the  crowd  opens  and  gathers  again 
round  a  circle  of  monks,  children,  women  and 
citizens,  all  dancing  and  singing,  ring  within  ring, 
as  one  of  the  friars  may  well  say,  "  without  any 
other  heed  at  all,"  until  the  day  closes  and  the 
people,  weary  and  restless  still,  return  to  their 
quiet  homes.  The  good-will  and  the  enthusiasm 
of  this  Palm-Sunday  are  to  be  borne  in  mind  as 
both  characteristic  of  Savonarola's  influence  over 
the  Florentines.  Some  one  says  that  the  city  is 
become  '^  a  New  Jerusalem  in  so  much  mystery," 
and  that  it  is  so  we  are  quite  ready  to  believe. 

Four  years  earlier,  at  the  death  of  Lorenzo  de 
Medici,  Florence  would  have  seemed  to  us  a  new 
Babylon  rather  than  a  new  Jerusalem.  Then 
there  was  no  other  enthusiasm  than  such  as  men 


136  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

find  in  riot  and  revelry,  no  other  peace  than  such 
as  comes  with  submission  and  forgetfulness. 
Lorenzo's  half  gentle,  half  rugged  face  tells  us 
more  of  him  than  any  historian  has  fully  told. 
In  that  compressed  lip,  that  searching  eye  and 
that  swollen  brow  are  expressed  his  unprincipled 
ambition  and  his  fervid  intellect.  He  was  a 
magnificent  scholar,  and  for  that  we  honor  him ; 
he  was  a  corrupt  ruler,  and  for  that  he  will  be 
scorned  by  honest  men.  Florence,  while  Lorenzo 
lived,  was  harnessed  to  his  chariot  wheels,  and 
far  was  she  dragged  in  greediness  and  shame. 
Her  festival  days  were  spent  in  lordly  tourna- 
ments or  impious  debaucheries,  and  her  homes 
were  all  possessed  by  vice  and  ignominy.  Liberty 
was  abandoned  and  honor  forgotten  in  the  mad 
courses  of  twenty  licentious  years.  In  reading 
how  Florence  was  raised  from  the  dust  in  which 
she  lay,  we  read  the  story  of  Savonarola. 


II. 


Girolamo  Francesco  Savonarola  was  born  of  a 
noble  Paduan  family,  in  Ferrara,  on  the  twenty- 
first  of  September,  1152.  The  times,  in  which 
this  birth  happened,  were  full  of  troubles  and 
changes. 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  137 

The  Church  of  Rome,  long  the  source  of  good, 
was  become  the  fountain  of  evil  to  the  world. 
Its  virtue  and  its  power  were  both  failing  fast. 
Cathedrals  might  still  be  filled  with  kneeling 
crowds,  and  anthem  harmonics  might  still  rise  up 
into  heaven-like  domes,  but  worship  in  all  its 
magnificence,  was  worship  of  knee  or  lip  or  ear. 
The  purification  of  the  Church  was  still  the  hope 
of  true  hearts.  Men  were  not  yet  ready  to  aban- 
don Rome,  although  Rome  seemed  to  have  aban- 
doned them.  The  noble  depended  upon  its  indul- 
gences, the  scholar  loved  it  for  its  learning,  and 
the  poor  clung  to  it  in  confiding  ignorance.  But 
while  priests  were  profligate,  and  popes  were 
faithless  to  all  Christian  hopes,  it  was  in  vain 
that  reliance,  affection,  and  confidence  were  given 
to  a  Churcli  which  did  not  deserve  even  its  name. 
Rome,  the  city,  was  wet  with  blood  and  corrupted 
by  gold.  A  Yice-Chamberlain's  reply  to  one  who 
reproached  him  with  the  venality  of  his  govern- 
ment, that  it  was  for  "  the  wicked  to  pay  and 
live,"  *  is  a  fearful  expression  of  darkness,  such 
as  was  then  settling  upon  the  Church  and  upon 
the  age  b.y  which  the  Church  was  still  acknowl- 
edged. The  characters  of  the  different  popes  who 
succeeded  to  each  other,  during  the  latter  half  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  may  be  taken,  separately  or 

*  The  story  is  really  to  be  found  in  Sismondi,  Hist,  des  Rep.  Ital. 
Tome  VII.,  p.  264'. 


138  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

collectively,  as  representing  the  priests  and,  in  a 
less  degree,  the  people  whom  they  governed.  One 
was  a  scholar,  like  Pius  Second  (Eneo  Silvio) ; 
another  was  a  brawler,  like  Sixtus  Fourth ;  one 
other,  worst  of  all,  an  enemy  to  God  and  man, 
was  Alexander  Sixth,  the  Borgia,  the  adulterer, 
the  murderer.  It  is  strange  to  follow  these  men, 
who  were  exalted  above  the  world,  that  the  world 
might  learn  not  only  to  fear  them,  but  to  fear  the 
faith  by  which  they  had  been  magnified,  and 
watch  the  gradual  approach  of  a  time,  when  such 
as  these  were  to  be  rejected  and  put  to  shame. 
Savonarola's  life  was  spent  in  struggles  against 
the  crimes,  by  which  his  religion  was  polluted 
and  his  home  was  made  desolate.  The  Arch- 
angel's warning  had  been  completed : 

"  Wolves  shall  succeed  for  teachers,  grievous  wolves  "  ;  * 

and  Christendom  was  become  like  a  desert,  its 
monuments  and  its  dwellings  covered  deep  with 
sand.  Yet  it  was  not  at  once  known  how  many 
things  were  changed,  or  how  many  were  still  to 
be  changed.  The  most  earnest  purpose,  prevail- 
ing among  men,  was  to  build  up  again  upon  the 
very  sands  which  had  swept  over  their  old  hopes. 
Not  even  Savonarola,  prophet  as  he  thought  him- 
self, knew  how  to  look  beyond  wastes  in  which 
he  could  find  no  shelter,  no  repose,  to  a  promised 
land.     Yet  neither  he  nor  they,  among  whom  he 

*  Paradise  Lost,  xii.  503.    Or  Dante,  Paradiso,  xxvii.  50  -57. 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  139 

lived,  are  to  be  mistaken.  It  was  an  age  of  many 
vicissitudes;  old  things  were  departing,  new  things 
were  coming ;  life  was  disturbed,  minds  were 
hurried ;  and  we  need  not  doubt  the  perplexity, 
the  restlessness,  and  the  weakness  which  were 
natural  to  the  times. 

The  strength  of  the  Church  was  still  maintained 
by  art,  by  poetry,  and  by  philosophy,  the  three 
great  voices  of  humanity.  A  simple  roll  of 
names  is  clearer  than  any  general  principles.  In 
art,  there  were  Masaccio,  a  man  so  gifted  that 
none  could  even  imitate  him  for  half  a  century 
after  ;  Verrocchio,  who  watched  over  the  hopeful 
studies  of  Vinci  and  Perugino;  Ghirlandajo,  whom 
Michelagnolo  was  never  weary  of  praising  as  his 
master;  Perugino,  himself,  whose  exceeding  glory 
was  in  his  scholar  RafFael :  there  were  these,  and 
many  more,  devoted,  all,  to  expression  of  that 
faith  which  they  and  their  world  believed.  There 
were  poets,  Boiardo  and  Politiano,  Pulci  and 
Benivieni,  singing  aloud  of  loves  and  festivals, 
but  echoing,  also,  the  deeper  sounds  of  superstition 
and  prayer.  In  the  very  year  after  Savonarola's 
birth,  Constantinople  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Turks,  and  its  long  agony  was  ended.  Its  learn- 
ing and  its  scholars  were  hurried  away  to  the 
western  states  of  Europe,  where  welcome  and 
support  were  sure.  The  first  influence  of  these 
new  minds,  living  and  dead,  was  favorable  to  the 
Church  of  the  Middle  Ages,  now  departed.     The 


140  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

most  earnest  students  were  the  most  devout  be- 
lievers in  Rome ;  and  the  confusion  of  ancient 
philosophy  and  recent  theology  was  for  a  time 
continued  by  such  as  Cardinal  Bessarion,  Ficino, 
and  even  the  wonderful  Pico  della  Mirandola,  all 
thorough  scholars.  Even  the  earlier  remonstran- 
ces which  Lorenzo  Valla  had  uttered  against 
Rome,  and  the  later  opposition  made  by  Pietro 
Pomponazzi  to  the  philosophy  on  which  the  faith 
of  Rome  was  staked,  seem  to  have  come  out  from 
wandering  intellects  rather  than  from  resolute 
souls.  The  only  object  in  reading  these  names 
here  is  to  comprehend  the  spiritual  bearings  of 
Savonarola's  age.  He  was  not  a  Protestant  like 
Luther,  the  men  about  him  would  not  have  acted 
with  him  if  he  had  been ;  but  he  was  the  very 
martyr  of  such  strivings  against  evil  in  material 
and  in  moral  things,  as  were  congruous  to  Italy 
and  to  the  fifteenth  century.  He  could  do  no 
more,  as  a  great  man,  than  help  forward,  by  his 
own  devotion,  the  longings  which  were  felt  by 
many,  though  there  was  none  to  labor  for  them 
and  die  for  them  like  Savonarola. 

It  is  not  so  easy  to  trace  the  decline  of  Liberty 
as  to  discover  the  actual  decay  of  Religion  in  Italy. 
Any  history  will  make  it  plain  that  in  Savonarola's 
time,  and  in  Savonarola's  country,  there  was  no 
real  liberty  existing;  but  our  enquiries  must 
stretch  farther,  even  to  comprehending  the  course 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  141 

of  things  which  were  so  early  ended.  The  old 
freedom  of  the  Italian  cities, — where  was  it  then) 
The  citizens  who  were  free  in  the  Middle  Ages, — 
or  their  descendants,  —  where  then  were  they  1 

The  liberty  of  the  Italian  cities,  in  their  best 
days,  it  must  be  recollected,  was  not  such  liberty 
as  would  be  accepted  in  our  own  times.  Any  one 
city,  as  a  political  state,  comprised  three  classes 
among  its  people,  nobles,  citizens,  and  laborers, 
each  as  remote  from  the  other,  as  though  their 
interests  and  their  associations  had  never  been,  or 
never  were  to  be  united.  In  early  times,  the  nobles 
were  most  powerful ;  their  birth,  their  pomp,  their 
warlike  habits  gave  them  secure  control  over  all 
the  political  rights  which  others  beneath  them 
claimed.  But  in  the  common  course  of  human 
destinies,  this  overshadowing  power  of  rank  and 
arms  was  brought  to  the  ground.  Industry  and 
commerce  were  fast  increasing,  and  with  them 
there  grew  up  new  influences  of  wealth  and  luxury. 
The  nobles  fell  away ;  their  pure  blood  flowed 
feebly  in  their  veins ;  their  iron  armor  hung 
heavily  on  their  limbs.  To  them  succeeded  the 
merchants,  the  masters,  the  citizens  of  the  thir- 
teenth and  fourteenth  centuries,  through  gradual 
but  never  silent  revolutions.  Their  dominion  of 
gold  was  as  exclusive  as  the  nobles'  dominion  of 
iron  had  ever  been,  and  the  liberty,  which  belonged 
to  their  cities,  was  scarcely  increased  by  any  lib- 
eral  principles  or  any  liberal  institution  of  the 


142  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

newly  risen  citizens.  The  greatest  hindrance  to 
progress  in  Hberty,  progress  in  peace,  progress  in 
virtue,  arose  from  the  factions,  into  which  nearly 
every  Italian  city  was  divided ;  countrymen  to 
countrymen,  friends  to  friends,  brothers,  even,  to 
brothers,  they  were  all  set  against  each  other  and 
against  themselves,  with  hateful  cries  upon  their 
lips  and  bloody  weapons  in  their  hands.  There 
could  be  no  freedom  in  such  strifes  as  were  every- 
where prevailing.  Villani,  the  early  historian,  de- 
clared that  "  the  Florentines  were  of  loyal  souls, 
faithful  one  to  another,  and  desirous  of  being  like- 
wise faithful  in  their  country's  affairs  ;  "  but  their 
desires  and  their  fidelity  were  equally  imperfect. 
It  was  in  a  game  of  foot-ball  *  that  the  old  burghers 
of  Florence  first  won  their  liberty  from  the  nobles ; 
but  their  game  was  a  short  one ;  the  magistrates 
they  chose,  and  the  offices  they  established,  were 
all  gone  from  them  in  ten  years'  time.  The  lower 
classes  were  continually  abused,  even  when  the 
industry,  to  which  their  labor  was  indispensable, 
had  grown  into   influence   and  honor.     As   the 


*  This  was  the  favorite  game  in  the  old  city  of  Florence.  It  was 
played  upon  one  of  the  public  squares  by  a  number  of  champions, 
chosen  from  out  the  higher  classes  only,  wearing  different  colors,  and 
struggling  together  with  as  much  eagerness  as  though  their  game 
had  been  a  pitched  battle.  On  the  20lh  of  October,  1250,  the  citi- 
zens not  only  drove  their  ball  beyond  the  bounds,  but  arming  them- 
selves hastily,  they  forced  tiie  Podesta,  a  foreign  magistrate,  to  resign 
his  office,  and  then  set  up  themselves,  a  new  government  of  Citizen 
Counsellors,  (Anziani.) 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  143 

nobles  had  yielded  to  the  citizens,  tlie  citizens 
were,  in  their  turn,  very  near  yielding  to  the  labor- 
ers and  the  workmen;  but  these  poorer  classes 
were  too  weak,  too  ignorant,  to  overcome  the 
wealth,  the  power,  and  the  knowledge,  by  which 
they  were  pressed  down.  Any  tumult,  merely 
popular,  that  is  started  and  continued  by  the  lower 
people,  was  soon  subdued  by  the  magistrates  and 
the  upper  classes  to  which  the  magistrates  belonged. 
All  Italy  was  in  confusion,  and  those  states  of  Italy 
which  were  freest  were  most  confused.  There  was 
no  security  of  life  or  property  :  no  maintenance  of 
order  or  law ;  no  increase  of  real  liberty.  Accord- 
ing to  the  constitution  of  government  which 
lasted  longest  in  Florence,  the  six  Priors  at  the 
head  of  affairs  were  actually  imprisoned  in  the 
public  palace,  during  the  two  months  of  their 
magistracy ;  yet  the  title  of  these  magistrates  was 
no  less  an  one,  than  "Priors  of  Liberty."  '^ 

The  story  of  Giano  della  Bella  is  entirely  a 
commentary  upon  Florentine  Freedom.  He  was 
a  man  of  noble  birth,  who  abandoned  his  title  and 
his  privileges  either  for  the  sake  of  his  own  inter- 
ests, or,  as  we  would  rather  believe,  for  the  sake  of 
his  fellow-citizens,  who  needed  some  helper  in  the 
distress  to  which  they  were  reduced.  Giano  was 
made  a  Prior,  and  he  then  came  forward  among 
the  people,  to  accuse  the  crimes  which  had  been 
committed  by  the  nobles,  and  to  demand  new 
powers,  such  as  the  magistrates  needed  in  order  to 


144  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

protect  the  lower  citizens.  His  appeal,  made  in 
passionate  language,  Avas  answered  by  passionate 
voices.  A  commission  of  citizens  was  instantly- 
named  to  secure  the  justice  and  the  liberty  which 
all  Florence  knew  to  be  failing ;  and  some  hundred 
ordinances  (ordinamenti  della  giustizia)  were  soon 
after  published,  by  which  all  the  most  noble  fam- 
ilies were  forever  excluded  from  holding  any  chief 
offices  of  the  republic.  In  proportion  to  the 
strength  and  the  oppression  that  had  been  exer- 
cised by  the  nobility,  were  the  degradation  and  the 
injustice  then  done  to  them.  The  new  laws,  set 
up  in  place  of  the  old,  were  the  laws  of  a  quarrel- 
some democracy,  if  a  state  can  be  called  by  such 
a  name  in  which  the  citizens,  the  tradesmen,  the 
merchants,  were  alone  powerful.  Were  Giano 
della  Bella  the  true  patriot  that  he  seems  to  be,  he 
was  surely  dismayed  by  the  working  of  his  own 
*  reforms.  The  trader-priors  began  with  razing 
some  houses  of  the  nobility  to  the  gromid;  the 
laws,  by  which  they  pretended  to  govern,  were 
every  day  more  disordered  ;  the  people  of  citizens 
not  even  pretending  to  obey,  was  growing  sedi- 
tious; the  nobles  were  recovering  their  courage 
and  their  strength ;  and  new  tumults  were  chasing 
each  other  through  the  streets  of  Florence,  always 
tumultuous,  if  not  always  free.  Giano  dared  to 
undertake  a  second  revolution  far  more  difficult 
than  the  first,  in  which  his  good  purposes  had 
utterly  failed.     "Perish  the  republic!"  he  cried, 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  145 

"and  me  with  it,  rather  than  endure  these  iniqui- 
ties !  "  But  his  efforts  were  defeated,  his  good 
name,  even,  was  slandered,  and  he  was  forced  to 
fly  from  his  home,  (1294,)  dying  afterwards  in  ex- 
ile. "  It  was  a  dreadful  loss  to  our  city,  and  most 
of  all  to  our  poor  people,"  says  Villani,  "  for  he 
was  the  most  loyal  man  and  the  most  sincere  re- 
publican in  Florence."* 

It  is  plain,  then,  that  Italian  liberty  was  neither 
complete  in  principle  nor  enduring  in  progress. 
As  a  birth-right,  as  a  gift  of  God  to  all  humanity, 
it  was  never,  at  any  time,  nor  in  any  place,  ac- 
knowledged. Even  in  the  years  before  Savona- 
rola's birth,  it  had  come,  when  it  came  at  all, 
with  the  success  of  factions  triumphing  over  each 
other  in  the  same  city ;  and,  to  be  free,  it  was  then 
more  necessary  to  be  a  Guelph  or  a  Ghibeline, 
than  to  be  a  Florentine.  But  in  the  years  of  Sa- 
vonarola's youth,  these  factions  were  all  passed 
away,  and  such  republics,  as  had  breath  enough 
left  to  claim  the  name,  in  Italy,  were  only  phan- 
toms of  what  they  had  once  been.  Lucca  and 
Sienna  were  reduced  to  mere  oligarchies  ;  Bologna 
was  fallen  beneath  the  dominion  of  the  Benti- 
voglio  family;  Genoa  accepted  or  refused  her 
masters,  just  as  they  chanced  to  come  and  go 
away ;  Milan  had  no  other  government  than  abso- 

*  This  quotation  is  taken  from  Sismondi,  -who  may  be  consulted 
for  a  more  detailed  account  of  Giano  della  Bella.     Hist,  des  Rip. 
Hal.  Tome  III.  Chap.  I. 
10 


146  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.. 

lute  monarchy;  and  Florence  wore  the  chains  hung 
upon  her,  as  has  been  said,  by  the  Medici.  Dante 
would  still  have  called  his  country  Serva  Italia, 
Italy  the  Slave,*  and  yet  it  was  ever  the  same 
Italia  bella,  Italy  the  Beautiful.  The  greatest 
part  of  Italian  cities  had  submitted  to  successful 
adventurers.  Chiefs  of  parties  established  them- 
selves as  tyrants  of  a  whole  people,  by  no  other 
right  than  that  of  triumph. 

Che  le  terre  d'ltalia  tutte  piene 

Son  di  tiranni,  ed  un  Marcel  diventa 
Ogni  villan  che  partcggiando  viene.f 

These  three  lines  tell  the  whole  story  of  free- 
dom's ruin  in  Italy.  When  a  faction  had  once 
prevailed  against  its  enemy,  it  found  that  there 
was  a  necessity  of  yielding  its  new  power  to  the 
leader  it  had  hitherto  followed  for  its  own  sake. 
The  leader  became  the  lord,  and  the  lord  became 
the  tyrant  over  followers  and  over  adversaries. 
This  might  happen  suddenly,  or  it  might  happen 
gradually ;  but  in  either  way,  the  issue  was  the 
same.  The  day  of  freedom  and  the  day  of  union 
were  ended  together,  and  together  the  day  of 
tyranny  and  the  day  of  separation  began. 

It  was  in  Savonarola's  life-time  that  Henry 
Seventh,  Louis  Eleventh  and  Ferdinand  the  Ca- 


*  Turn  to  the  mournful  lines  of  the  Purg-atorio,  Canto  vi.  76,  &c. 

t  "  For  the  countries  of  Italy  are  all  full  of  tyrants,  and  every 
countryman,  who  succeeds  in  faction,  becomes  a  lord."  —  From 
Dante,  Purg.  vi.  124-126. 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  147 

tholic  gave  expression  from  their  thrones  to  the 
spirit  which  ruled  all  men.  There  seemed  to  be 
no  other  principles  of  government  left,  than  cun- 
ning, covetousness,  and  falsehood.  Throughout 
Italy,  the  policy  of  Venice  was  accepted  as  a 
model  for  all  policies  ;  and,  so  long  as  strength  and 
endurance  were  gained  at  all,  it  mattered  very 
little  how  they  were  gained.  Political  reform  was 
quite  as  necessary  as  any  other  reform.  Savona- 
rola, as  we  may  read,  was  himself  a  political  re- 
former, although  he  never  professed  to  have  much 
acquaintance  with  merely  political  principles. 
The  materials  were  scattered;  the  moulds  were 
broken  and  shapeless ;  and  we  need  not  look  for 
any  image  that  shall  be  perfect  in  our  eyes.  In 
truth,  the  things  to  be  changed  were  things  un- 
seen. The  character  of  men  had  been  degraded 
according  to  the  character  of  tyrannies  above 
them,  and  the  reform  of  human  governments 
needed  a  reform  of  human  lives.  Some  signs  of 
noble  spirit  were  still  shown  in  the  conspiracies  of 
that  same  period,  in  such,  of  course,  as  arose  from 
noble  motives  ;  and  it  was  by  conspiracies,  blood- 
stained as  they  were,  that  common  rights  seemed 
to  be  brought  within  reach  of  common  men.  One 
of  the  most  striking  episodes  in  the  history  of 
Italian  liberty  is  the  story  of  Girolamo  Olgiati, 
who,  with  two  companions,  slew  Galeazzo  Sfor- 
za,  the  hateful  duke  of  Milan,  to  avenge  not 
only  the  dishonor  of  his  sister,  but  the  miserable 


148  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

slavery  of  his  countrymen.  Olgiati  was  instantly 
seized  by  the  duke's  soldiers,  and  was  afterwards 
tried  by  torture  beneath  the  eyes  of  hired  judges. 
A  confession  he  wrote  before  them  declares  his 
confidence  in  the  goodness  of  the  cause  for  which 
he  suffered  so  young,  and  he  was  only  twenty-two 
years  old.  His  death  was  worthy  of  his  pure  and 
dauntless  spirit.  The  executioner,  in  tearing  his 
flesh,  forced  from  him  a  cry  of  anguish,  but  he 
calmed  himself  instantly,  and  with  his  last  breath 
murmured.  Mors  acerba^  fama  perpetua.  Stabit 
vetus  memoriafacti  !  That  his  efforts  in  Milan's 
behalf  should  so  utterly  fail,  is  proof,  not  only  of 
the  strength  in  which  tyrannies  were  established, 
but  quite  as  much  of  the  feebleness  with  which 
people  submitted  to  them,  throughout  long  abused 
Italy. 

Florence,  renowned  and  beautiful  beyond  all 
other  cities  in  Italy,*  had  long  preserved  its  inde- 
pendence and  its  pride  amid  the  wrecks  by  which 
it  was  thickly  surrounded.  It  could  not  escape 
the  storms  of  faction  and  bloodshed  which  were 
brought  upon  it  by  Guelphs  and  Ghibelines,  the 
Ricci  and  the  Albizzi,  the  Ciompi  and  the  change- 
ful Balie.  Yet  during  all  this  violence,  all  this 
license,  even  while  temperance  and  wisdom  were 


*  "  Egrcgia  eitl^  oltre  ad  ogni  allra  Italica  bellissima,"  as  its 
adopted  son,  Boccaccioj  exultingly  exclaimed. 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  149 

put  aside,  the  city  grew  in  wealth  and  art  and 
fame.  The  ancient  nohihty,  among  whom  were 
great  names  still,  lost  their  influence,  and  were,  at 
last,  deprived  by  statute  of  all  political  power. 
This  was  really  the  severest  loss  which  the  insti- 
tutions of  a  State  like  Florence  could  have  suf- 
fered. The  places  of  such  men  as  Farinata  degli 
Uberti,  the  preserver  of  Florence  after  the  defeat 
of  the  Guelphs  at  Arbia,*  or  such  as  Tornaquinci, 
who  fell  with  both  his  sons  in  defending  the  Car- 
roccio  or  War-Chariot  of  the  republic,  could  never 
be  supplied  by  mercenaries  or  common  citizens. 
The  merchants  who  would  have  governed  a  city, 
as  if  it  had  been  a  bale  of  merchandise,  prepared 
its  downfall  and  their  own.  The  great  family  of 
the  Medici  usurped  superior  authority  in  Florence, 
almost  insensibly,  and  almost  entirely  unresisted. 
Their  rule  was  really  better  suited  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  people  who  submitted  to  them,  than 
the  rule  of  the  rich  men,  from  whose  hands 
power  had  slipped,  at  the  very  time  when  Flor- 
ence was  shaking  off  the  rusty  chains  of  Dark 
Ages,  and  rising  to  the  first  place  in  our  modern 

*  "  Know  ye,"  so  said  Farinata  to  the  Ghibelines,  with  whom  he 
■was  then  victorious,  and  who  were  much  inclined  to  destroy  the 
city  which  was  Guelph  at  heart,  "  know  ye,  that  though  I  were 
alone  of  all  the  Florentines  alive,  I  would  not  sufier  my  country  to 
he  destroyed  ;  nay,  if  it  be  necessary  to  die  for  her  a  thousand  times, 
I  am  ready  to  die  a  thousand  times  for  her."  These  words  are  re- 
lated hy  Aretino, according  to  Sismondi,  Hist,  des  Rip.  ItaL,  Tome 
II.,  Chap.  9.     See  the  tenth  Canto  of  the  Inferno. 


150  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

world.  Physically,  it  mattered  little  to  the  Floren- 
tines, that  they  had  lost  all  real  independence ; 
but  morally  it  mattered  much,  that  they  should 
forget  to  depend  upon  themselves,  and  should  be 
content  to  abandon  the  liberties  which  were  their 
fathers'  pride  and  their  fathers'  safety.  Yet  it  was 
hard  to  see  things,  then,  as  we  now  can  look  upon 
them.  Agriculture  had  never  made  the  valley 
of  the  Arno  more  smiling;  industry  had  never 
worked  greater  wonders  in  the  city  of  arti  and 
97iestieri,  the  peculiar  city  of  Arts  and  Trades; 
commerce  had  never  extended  itself  farther  to 
find  luxuries  abroad  which  were  magnificently 
used  at  home  ;  even  learnmg,  newly  born,  found 
shelter  and  nourishment  within  the  walls,  rather 
within  the  very  hearts  of  Florence;  all  was 
abundant  there  but  freedom  and  piety,  and  with- 
out these  life  here  and  hope  hereafter  fail. 

Machiavelli  and  Savonarola,  both  reformers,  ex- 
press, each  in  his  own  way,  the  desires  which  be- 
longed to  these  restless  times.  The  one  proposed 
political  reform  alone,  holding  that  all  things 
were  to  be  accomplished  by  force  and  treachery. 
The  principle  of  his  greatest  work  is  power,  no 
matter  how  obtained  nor  how  exercised.  He  had 
no  faith  in  mankind,  and  the  energies  he  gave  his 
country  sprang  from  gloomy  and  ungenerous  feel- 
ings. This  one  was  Machiavelli.  The  other, 
Savonarola,  believed  in  higher  aid  than  he  could 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  161 

find  on  earth,  and  not  only  labored,  bnt  prayed 
for  peace  and  holiness.  His  heart,  sotto  V  usher  go 
di  sentirsi  piira^  protected  by  its  own  purity,  was 
filled  with  love  for  his  fellow-beings,  and  to  them 
he  devoted  his  virtue  and  his  faith.  He  Avas 
sometimes  fanatical,  sometimes  stern,  sometimes 
wrong ;  but  he  believed  himself  to  be  the  instru- 
ment of  Providence,  and  fell  a  willing  victim  to 
Truth,  like  Socrates.  The  children  of  Italy  have 
been  born  to  sad  inheritance.  We,  far  away,  may 
dream  of  winning  loveliness,  or  melodious  voices, 
or  Heaven's  gentlest  reflections,  as  alone  belong- 
ing to  that  southern  land :  but  winds,  sweeping 
from  the  past,  come  laden  with  clouds  and  tears 
across  its  skies.  Some  fruitful  promises  are  just 
now  unfolding  themselves  in  Italy,  and  many  a 
heart  dares  to  believe  that  the  life  of  long-lost 
years  may  be  renewed.  The  memory  of  such  as 
Savonarola  is  an  evening  and  a  morning-star. 

Milton's  description  (in  the  first  book  of  Paradise 
Regained)  of  a  solemn  childhood,  might  well  be  re- 
peated of  Savonarola's  earliest  years.  The  boy's 
heart  was  warm,  but  he  had  more  fondness  for  se- 
clusion and  studies  than  for  companionship  and 
amusements,  which  are  to  most  men  their  happiest 
memories.  His  grandfather  Michele,  a  distin- 
guished physician,  who  had  been  personally  in- 
vited to  the  Ducal  Court  of  Ferrara,  and  his 
father  Niccolo,  lavished  their  tenderness  and  wis- 


152  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

dom  upon  his  education.  Savonarola's  serious- 
ness was  only  interrupted  by  that  passionate  love 
of  poetry,  which  is  a  birthright  of  all  Italians. 
In  philosophy  and  theology  he  followed  the  teach- 
ings of  Thomas  Aquinas,  "the  Angelic  Doctor" 
of  the  Middle  Ages ;  and,  as  the  teacher  had  been 
a  Dominican  friar,  so  the  disciple  inclined  to  take 
orders  with  the  Dominican  brotherhood,  and  at 
the  age  of  twenty-three  he  entered  their  convent 
at  Bologna.     He 

"  already  was  prepared 
By  his  intense  conceptions  to  receive 
Deeply  the  lesson  deep  of  love," 

and  the  longings  of  his  heart  for  faith  and  devotion 
were  satisfied  in  a  life  of  sacrifice. 

At  first  he  was  unwilling  to  partake  of  the  com- 
mon pursuits  of  the  monks  among  whom  he  had 
chosen  to  dwell,  but  his  excellence  and  maturity 
of  mind  were  soon  discovered  to  his  superiors,  and 
both  at  Bologna,  and  in  St.  Mark's  convent  of 
Florence,  where  he  presently  repaired,  he  was  ap- 
pointed public  lecturer  in  philosophy.  When  he 
began  to  preach,  during  his  first  residence  in  Flor- 
ence, being  then  about  thirty  years  old,  he  failed 
entirely  in  manner  and  in  language ;  yet  he  was 
not  discouraged,  and  among  the  calmer  studies  of 
his  own  cell,  he  prepared  himself  to  fulfil  the 
promises,  which  to  his  watchful  hopes  must  have 
been  already  revealed.  A  few  months  after  this 
first  disappointment,  he  was  sent  on  some  priestly 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  153 

mission  to  Lombardy,  where  he  remained  for 
several  years,  preaching  and  lecturing  with  fast- 
increasing  influence.  One  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici's 
friends  happened  to  meet  Savonarola,  in  the 
north,  and  was  so  much  amazed  with  his  ear- 
nestness and  piety  of  spirit,  that  he  prevailed  upon 
Lorenzo  to  invite  the  return  of  the  eloquent  monk 
to  St.  Mark's.  This  friend,  not  to  Lorenzo  alone, 
but  to  Florence  and  the  Catholic  world,  was  the 
great  scholar  Pico  della  Mirandola.  He  wrote,  at 
this  time,  che  non  gll  pareva  piu  poter  vivere 
senza  lid,  that  he  could  not  live  apart  from  such 
a  man,  and  to  the  day  of  his  death  he  was  Sa- 
vonarola's faithful  hearer.  Savonarola  gladly  ac- 
cepted the  summons,  and  came  back  to  Florence 
in  1489,  from  which  year  his  great  public  career 
may  be  said  to  have  been  begun.  He  was  then 
thirty-seven  years  old;  his  youth  was  past,  but 
all  the  glow  of  manhood  was  upon  him  still. 


HL 


Within  the  first  year  after  his  return  to  Flor- 
ence, Savonarola  had  so  won  the  confidence  of  his 
brethren,  that  they  made  him  their  prior  in  St. 
Mark's.  He  was  born  to  authority  among  men. 
Ever  since  the  Medici  were  first  in  power,  it  had 


154  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

been  a  custom  with  all  the  Florentine  convents, 
that  their  newly  elected  priors  should  present 
themselves  before  the  chief  of  the  ruling  family, 
to  express  to  him  the  respect  of  their  fraternities. 
Savonarola  refused  to  make  this  visit  to  Lorenzo, 
declaring  that  he  owed  his  o^ce  to  higher  au- 
thority than  that  of  any  man.  (  The  monks  were 
greatly  alarmed,  but  Lorenzo,  far  from  resenting 
this  rudeness  of  their  prior,  rather  sought  to  attract 
an  honest  spirit  by  graceful  kindness ;  yet  there 
was  no  way  to  open  which  Savonarola  was 
willing  to  follow  towards  Lorenzo.  The  simple 
monk  dared  to  refuse  the  great  lord's  gifts,  which 
had  no  charm  for  his  plainness  and  integrity  of 
life.  He  was  one  among  very  few  who  could  see 
the  gloomy  influences  which  were  behind  the 
Medici's  pageantry,  and  them  he  would  neither 
yield  to  nor  seek  at  all.  Lorenzo  is  said  to  have 
entreated  or  commanded  Savonarola  to  cease  from 
public  preaching  of  the  tribulations  which  were 
about  to  fall  upon  Florence,  but  the  prophet  was 
even  more  seditious  than  the  prior,  although  he 
seems  to  have  refrained,  at  least,  from  any  open 
reproaches  to  Lorenzo  or  the  Medici. 

Yet  a  little  while  and  Savonarola  stood  by  Lo- 
renzo's death-bed.  The  poet,  the  patron,  the  tyrant, 
was  drawing  feebler  breath  every  hour.  His  heart, 
never  hardened,  humbled  itself  to  ask  absolution 
from  that  pure  and  unstained  spirit  which  had 
been  tempted  in  vain.     Savonarola's  charity  was 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  155 

sincere,  but  it  exacted  much  repentance  in  return. 
Without  making  any  unseasonable  discourse  to 
the  dying  man,  the  confessor  asked  a  declaration 
of  full  faith  in  God's  love,  and,  as  an  earnest  of  a 
faith  so  solemn,  a  promise  that  all  things  which 
had  been  vmjustly  acquired  in  the  life  now  nearly 
ended,  should  be  surrendered  while  there  was  yet 
time.  The  declaration  and  the  promise  were  both 
made  ;  but  when  the  confessor  claimed  the  restor- 
ation of  liberty  to  Florence,  the  dying  lord  made 
no  reply,  unwilling,  perhaps,  to  make  this  sacri- 
fice, perhaps,  to  promise  what  he  was  no  longer 
able  to  fulfil.  Savonarola  turned  away  and  left 
Lorenzo  to  die  unshrived.  With  such  sternness 
we  can  have  no  sympathy  ;  and  it  seems  but  little 
to  have  forgiven  political  transgressions,  that  are 
since  almost  forgotten  among  the  better  memories 
of  Lorenzo's  life. 

The  associations  which  connect  in  history 
these  two  chief  men  of  Florence,  are  entirely 
characteristic  of  Savonarola,  but  they  are  not 
altogether  honorable  to  him.  His  refusal  to  meet 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici  or  to  accept  offers  which 
other  men  would  have  crawled  on  their  knees  to 
gain,  sounds  like  perfect  heroism.  But  it  is  much 
to  be  questioned,  if  the  prior,  by  shutting  himself 
up  sulkily  in  his  convent,  did  half  so  much  good, 
even  by  such  an  example,  as  he  might,  perhaps, 
have  done  by  acknowledging  the  protection  which 
all  Florence  acknowledged,  in  order,  afterwards, 
to   possess   some    influence    over   the    authority 


156  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

which  all  Florence  obeyed.  Lorenzo  was  full  of 
quick-flashing  sensibility  that  Savonarola  might 
have  fired  and  extinguished,  almost  as  he  pleased. 
He  was  the  very  man  to  win  confidence  from  a 
glowing  mind,  and  we  have  a  right  to  fancy  that 
he  could  have  persuaded  Lorenzo,  in  life,  to  do 
something  towards  the  fulfilment  of  that  justice  it 
was  too  late  to  demand  from  him,  in  death.  But 
in  these  brief  stories  are  all  the  honesty  and  all 
the  severity  which  distinguished  the  Florentine 
reformer. 

The  place  which  Savonarola  filled  in  Florence, 
at  the  time  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici's  death,  was  al- 
ready large  and  eminent.  The  seeds  he  was  ear- 
nest to  sow  in  men's  hearts  were  springing  up  in 
freshness  and  virtue.  As  yet,  he  belonged  to  his 
convent  more  than  to  the  great  world,  and  lived 
among  his  brethren  in  deep  tranquillity.  Almost 
daily  then,  he  led  his  monks  without  the  city 
walls,  finding  "sweet  shrines"  for  them  and  for 
himself,  among  choral-sounding  trees  and  incense- 
breathing  flowers.  Or  he  would  sit  in  the  convent 
garden  for  hours,  content  to  train  the  simple 
souls  that  trusted  in  him,  to  gratitude  and  piety. 
Savonarola  believed  in  nature's  own  holy  teach- 
ings. His  mind  was  full  of  poetry,  which  often 
escaped  its  quiet  bounds,  bearing  him  on  to  mys- 
ticism and  even  to  fanaticism.  He  believed  him- 
self, at  length,  to  be  an  inspired  man,  commissioned 
to  work  miracles  and  to  utter  prophecies.  His 
frcc|uent  predictions  were  mostly  declared  upon 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  157 

common  events  it  was  easy  to  foresee,  but  their 
fulfilment  gained  for  him  the  reverence  of  the 
people  whom  he  wished  to  guide.  He  was  guile- 
less as  a  child,  and  if  he  ever  deceived  others,  he 
was  himself  deceived.  So  far,  at  least,  he  was  a 
true  prophet,  that  he  prepared  the  way  of  Religion 
and  Freedom  among  his  countrymen.  It  would 
be  wrong  to  believe  him  satisfied  with  dreamy 
mysticism.     His  days  were  never  lost  in 

"  Letting  down  buckets  into  empty  wells, 
And  growing  old  in  drawing  nothing  up  ; " 

for  he  was,  honestly,  a  practical  reformer.  What 
he  did  was  done  sometimes  prematurely,  sometimes 
hastily,  but  it  was  his  solemn  purpose  to  give  the 
world,  in  which  he  lived,  the  purity  he  loved  to 
seek  in  an  ideal  world. 

The  instruments,  which  Savonarola  employed 
in  his  great  labor  of  reform,  by  speech  and  by  ac- 
tion, were  chiefly  these  three  :  simplicity,  strength, 
and  fervor.  He  was  unsuccessful,  at  first,  in 
preaching,  but  thoughts  like  his  can  never  perish 
for  want  of  air,  and  when  he  returned  to  the  Ca- 
thedral-pulpit, after  renewed  preparation,  he  was 
graceful,  eloquent,  and  triumphant.  The  dust 
which  other  preachers  threw  in  men's  eyes,  he 
washed  away  with  words  that 

"  dropped  like  Heaven's  serenest  snow, 
And  all  was  brightness  where  they  fell." 

His  cordial  voice  came  like  music  to  weary 
minds.      Burlamachi,  a    Dominican    friar,  who 


158  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

wrote  a  contemporary  biography  of  Savonarola, 
speaks  with  great  enthusiasm  of  his  "  ardent  and 
devout  countenance,"  his  "graceful  gestures,"  his 
voice  "like  a  trumpet,"  his  language  "living, 
clear,  and  full  of  sanctity."  He  was  another  Amos, 
even  as  he  described  the  ancient  prophet,  "a 
shepherd  and  a  simple  man,  whom  God  had 
chosen."  He  knew  no  fear  in  his  hatred  of  vice, 
no  measure  to  his  love  of  virtue.  His  sermons,  of 
which  many  have  been  preserved  by  the  care  of 
those  who  wrote  them  down  after  hearing  them, 
are  his  own  history.  As  mere  compositions  they 
are  of  little  value,  but  as  fervid  and  practical  ex- 
hortations to  all  good  things,  they  may  well  be 
read  and  followed  still.  "  I  must  preach  to  you," 
he  said  to  the  Florentines, "because  God  has  com- 
manded me  to  do  so  for  your  good ;  your  wicked- 
ness is  plain,  and  to  me  have  been  revealed  the 
punishments  to  come  upon  you,  unless  you  shall 
embrace  a  more  perfect  and  Christian  life."  He 
began  (1489,)  with  preaching  in  tlie  church  of  his 
own  convent,  St.  Mark's,  but  in  the  next  year,  the 
crowd  to  hear  him  was  so  great,  that  he  was 
obliged  to  preach  to  them  in  the  Cathedral.  His 
sermons  were  never  written ;  what  he  said  to  his 
people  came,  as  they  knew,  straight  from  his  heart ; 
and,  although  there  might  have  been  little  method 
and  less  elegance  in  his  words,  there  were  sincerity 
and  energy,  such  as  give  to  eloquence  its  greatest 
power.     He  prayed,  and  his  people  prayed  with 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  159 

him ;  he  broke  into  passionate  exclamations,  and 
they  could  follow  him ;  he  wept,  and  their  tears 
and  his  were  mingled.  He  often  spoke  to  them  of 
their  duties  as  citizens  as  well  as  of  their  duties  as 
men.* 

There  is  no  point  in  the  history  of  Savona- 
rola's reforms  more  worthy  ofhcing  well  remarked 
than  the  comprehensive  unity  of  their  nature  and 
design.  He  was  neither  perfectly  wise  nor  per- 
fectly bold,  but  such  plans  as  he  could  make  were 
limited  neither  to  Church  alone,  nor  to  State  alone  ; 
they  comprehended  both  by  one  larger  plan  of 
humanity,  in  which  all  lives,  all  duties  were  num- 
bered. Savonarola  preached  for  eight  years  to  the 
same  people,  but  their  zeal  never  failed.  They 
filled  the  churches  in  which  he  preached ;  they 
gathered  about  him  in  the  streets  through  which 
he  walked ;  they  sought  his  counsel  in  the  convent, 
at  times  when  he  was  not  to  be  seen  among  men. 
Those  sermons  which  remain,  bear  witness  to  the 
single-hearted  faith  of  the  reformer,  to  the  hopes 
he  cherished  of  bringing  men  nearer  to  Heaven,  to 
the  Christian  longings  of  his  overflowing  spirit. 
He,  and  they  who  heard  him,  are  long  passed 
away,  but  the  prayers  breathed  every  day,  in  the 


*  "  Ciladini  miei,— such  appeals  as  this  are  very  frequent, — quando 
Toi  audate  su  nei  vostri  consiglj,  se  voi  foste  umili,  Iddio  vi  illumi- 
naria  ;  se  voi  non  foste  ambitiosi  e  tanto  superbi,  voi  avreste  fatte 
ora  mille  cose  che  non  avete  fatte."  These  words  are  from  one  of 
Savonarola's  sermons. 


160  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

Cathedral  of   Florence,    are   like   echoes   to   his 
preachings  and  to  his  people's  devotion. 

Meanwhile,  we  are  to  remember,  that  the  world- 
ly interests  of  Florence  were  changing  rapidly. 
Pietro  de'  Medici,  who  succeeded  without  difficulty 
to  his  father's  authority,  was  weak  in  character 
and  wild  in  life.  Although  he  had  been  watchfully 
educated  by  Angelo  Politiano,  and  was  really  a 
young  man  of  much  accomplishment,  he  was 
headstrong  and  careless  of  his  countrymen's  af- 
fection. To  them  it  was  really  "  servitude,  to 
serve  the  unwise,"  and  the  power  of  the  Medici 
became  less  to  their  eyes.  Then  came  Charles 
VIII.  across  the  Alps  from  France,  followed  by  a 
brilliant  army,  which  he  had  devoted  to  ambitious 
hopes  of  adventure  in  Italy.  We  have  to  meet 
him  in  Florence,  only,  where  the  approach  of 
youth  and  power,  like  his,  must  have  kindled  the 
hopes  of  colder  hearts  than  Savonarola's.  It  was 
the  universal  belief  that  the  French  king  was  to 
become  the  regenerator  of  Italy ;  that  his  protec- 
tion would  bring  strength,  and  his  command  give 
union,  to  a  weak  and  sundered  people.  Pietro  de' 
Medici,  himself,  was  much  disposed  to  resist 
Charles's  coming ;  but,  when  the  evil  day  was 
close  at  hand,  and  no  preparation  had  been  yet 
made  to  defend  Florence,  he  went  to  meet  the 
French  and  delay  their  march,  as  if  they  had 
been  beasts  to  be  drawn  after  any  plunder,  by 
throwing  open  some  of  the  Florentine  fortresses 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  161 

that  lay  in  their  way.  At  this,  the  people  he  left 
behind  him  rose  up,  in  despair,  to  save  their  dishon- 
ored city  from  ruin.  The  Medici  were  all  driven 
out,  and,  with  one  brave  struggle,  the  republic  set 
itself  free.  Savonarola  was  the  counsellor  of  those 
who  loved  liberty,  and,  to  protect  them,  he  went 
forth  himself,  at  the  head  of  an  embassy  to  Charles, 
welcoming  him  and  claiming  his  protection.  The 
bold  priest  found  favor  in  the  king's  eyes,  and 
Savonarola  returned  to  Florence  with  fair  prom- 
ises and  hopeful  predictions.  Dark  as  things 
were,  the  prophet's  eye  caught  glimpses  of  light 
beyond  the  clouds,  and  the  prophet's  voice  was 
lifted  up  in  cheerful  confidence.  Alas !  that  the 
prophet,  even  Savonarola,  was  deceived  ! 

Eight  days  after  the  expulsion  of  the  Medici, 
the  French  king  entered  Florence,  rather  as  a  con- 
queror than  a  protector,  followed  by  his  best 
troops  under  arms.  Savonarola  believed  that  all 
was  well ;  but  there  were  men  more  skilled  than 
he  in  this  world's  ways,  who  knew  that  their 
homes  were  in  peril  from  the  strangers.  Peasants 
well-armed  were  presently  collected  in  every 
house,  and  the  walls  were  garrisoned  by  the  Con- 
do  ttieri  of  the  republic.  There  was  little  wish  on 
either  side  for  open  hostilities;  the  Florentines 
did  not  fear  the  French  more  than  the  French 
mistrusted  the  Florentines ;  but  when  Charles 
offered  terms  of  protection  it  would  have  been 
dishonorable  to  accept,  they  were  instantly  and 
u 


162  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

boldly  refused.  Pietro  Capponi,  the  chief  secretary 
to  the  government,  tore  in  pieces  the  papers  which 
were  presented  to  him  from  the  king,  crying 
out  to  the  French  commissioners  all  amazed, 
"  If  such  things  be  demanded,  then  blow  your 
trumpets,  and  we  will  ring  our  bells."*  King 
Charles  obeyed  the  generous  impulses,  which  were 
really  in  him,  and  made  more  honorable  proposals 
to  the  people  so  manfully  defended.  But  his  coun- 
cillors came  between  him  and  his  mercy,  and  per- 
suaded him  to  deny  the  very  offers  he  had  made.f 
The  Florentine  magistrates  heard  by  mere  chance 
of  the  danger  which  was  threatening  them,  and 
betook  themselves  to  Savonarola.  "It  is  you," 
they  must  have  said,  "O  prior,  it  is  you  wlio  did 
persuade  us  to  put  our  trust  in  this  wild  king ; 
go  you,  now,  unto  him  and  defend  us,  defend 
our  city  against  his  evil  will."  Though  Savona- 
rola's confidence  in  Charles  must  have  been 
shaken,  he  could  still  bid  liis  friends  be  of  good 
cheer.  He  went  to  the  king,  and,  finding  access 
through  royal  guards  to  his  presence,  spoke,  as 
one  who  feared  God  alone,  of  the  pledges  Charles 
himself  had  made,  and  which  could  not  now  be 


*  A  verse  hy  Mdchiavelli  bears  pleasaat  teslimony  to  his  daring : 
"  Lo  slrepito  dell'  arnii  c  do'  cavalli 
Non  pote  far  si  che  non  fosse  udita 
La  voce  d'un  Capponi  fra  tanti  Galli." 
t  That   Florence   should   recover   the   fortresses   surrendered   by 
Pietro  de'  Medici,  on  payment  of  120,000  florins,  or  300,000  dollars. 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  163 

broken,  without  bringing  shame  and  disaster  upon 
his  arms.  The  king's  better  purposes  returned 
as  he  Ustened  to  words  so  bold  as  those,  and  a 
day  or  two  after,  he  left  Florence  with  all  his 
army,  to  pursue  in  the  south  his  brief  and  bril- 
liant enterprise.  Florence  was  saved,  and  Savo- 
narola, in  the  face  of  his  own  prophecies,  was  her 
preserver. 

Our  place  is  still  at  Savonarola's  side,  among 
men  and  things  around  him.  The  Florentines 
had  won  back  their  freedom,  and  had  escaped  the 
sword  of  the  invaders,  but  they  had  not  found 
peace  among  themselves.  The  great  mass  of 
the  citizens,  bearing  the  names  of  Froteschi  or 
Piagnoni,  Brethren  or  Weepers,  followed  or  pre- 
tended to  follow  the  religious  principles  which  Sa- 
vonarola maintained.  A  few  rich  merchants  and 
some  fewer  nobles,  although  really  attached  to  the 
interests  of  the  exiled  Medici,  under  the  obscure 
name  of  Big-i,  or  Greys,  were  generally  willing 
to  act  with  the  Weepers.  The  young  nobility, 
hostile  to  the  stern  reforms  of  Savonarola,  enrolled 
themselves  as  Arrahbiatl  and  Comjiagnacci^  Mad- 
men and  Evil  Companions,  names  which  explain 
themselves.  These  men,  Weepers,  Greys,  and 
Evil  Companions,  were  all  bitterly  opposed  to 
each  other ;  their  city  was  well-nigh  lost  in  con- 
fusion ;  but  its  reformer  knew  no  fear,  and  dared 
even  from  elements  like  these  to  shape  and  fulfil 
his  political  reforms.     The  government  he  pro- 


V 


I 


164  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

posed,  and  which  the  city  accepted  after  some 
months  spent  in  other  experiments,  was  very 
simple  in  its  forms.  A  Grand  Comicil  of  eighteen 
hundred  citizens,  whose  fathers  had  possessed 
any  ancient  offices,  from  whose  body  eighty  mem- 
bers were  chosen  to  form  a  smaller  Council,  com- 
prised, with  some  chief  magistrates,  the  entire 
supports,  on  which  the  new  destinies  of  the  state 
rested.  Two  or  three  years  afterwards,  all  young 
men,  in  Florence,  between  the  ages  of  twenty- 
four  and  thirty,  were  admitted  to  the  Grand 
Council,  and  in  this  increase  of  councillors  the 
state  received  its  most  democratic  development. 
Of  this  government  Savonarola  was  the  creator, 
and  by  this  chiefly,  although  he  confessed  it  to 
be  imperfect,  by  this  chiefly  is  he  known  as  a 
political  reformer. 

He  never  professed  to  be  a  master  of  political 
science,  but  he  was  almost  alone  in  maintaining 
the  principle,  to  us  so  plain,  that  a  government 
must  be  judged  according  to  its  good  or  evil  in- 
fluence upon  its  people.*  In  many  of  his  politi- 
cal reforms  is  reflected  the  spirit  of  the  age,  and 
his  desire  for  power  and  unity  in  Italy  led  him  to 
prefer  the  undivided  authority  of  a  king,  although 
his  love  of  liberty  was  too  strong  to  be  sacrificed 
to  any  political  theories.  But,  seeing  how  warmly 
the  love  of  republicanism  was  returned  to  the 

*  These  arc   his  words  :  "  Esscndo  I'unionc  e  pace  del  popolo  il 
fine  del  governo." 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  165 

Florentines,*  and  how  unwilling  they  Avould 
have  been  to  acknowledge  any  other  sovereignty 
than  their  own,  he  gave  them  what  they  asked 
of  him,  an  honest  and  open  framework  for  their 
party-colored  lives.  His  laws  were  founded  upon 
the  precepts  of  Christian  faith  :  "  Every  citizen 
must  abandon  sin  and  strive  to  perfect  this  gov- 
ernment in  the  fear  of  God  .  .  .  That  govern- 
ment alone  being  perfect,  which,  with  all  diligence, 
seeks  to  increase  the  common  weal  by  bringing 
men  to  virtue,  and  inclining  them  especially  to 
God's  worship."  He  would  have  had  religion  fa- 
miliar to  men  in  their  council  chambers,  as  well  as 
in  their  homes.  But  although  Savonarola  believed 
that  the  wisest  laws  were  the  best,  practically, 
not  theoretically,  he  was  deceived  by  his  own 
ardent  aspirations,  into  believing  that  the  Floren- 
tines were  good  enough  to  be  ruled  by  spiritual 
principles  alone.  He  guarded  them  well  against 
sedition  and  tyranny,  and  seemed  to  think  that 
he  had  protected  them  against  all  other  evils  by 
proclaiming  Christ  to  be  their  king.  Could  those 
restless  men  have  submitted  to  Christ's  mercy,  as 
they  did,  but  a  few  years  later,  to  man's  tyranny, 
their  city  would  have  been  God's  City  upon  the 
earth.  But  such  faith  was  impossible  to  spirits 
less  fervent  than  Savonarola's,  and  when  he  set 


*  Who  were  liesides,  as  he  said  of  them,"  popoli  che  sono  inge- 
gnosi  ed  ahbondano  di  sangue  e  sono  audaci." 


166  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

upon  a  human  state  the  mark  of  his  own  mysti- 
cism, he  set  upon  it  the  seal  of  decay.  Yet  there 
is  no  heart  too  cold  to  be  warmed  by  the  same 
hopes,  which  Savonarola  trusted,  of  seeing  men 
live  as  God's  subjects,  even  while  they  acknowl- 
edge the  dominion  of  some  fellow-man.* 

Quidquid  illud  accidet, 
Juvabit  ore  personasse  Christum. 

So  far,  the  prophet  seems  to  be  honored  in  his 
own  country.  But  the  priests  of  Rome  were 
alarmed  by  the  church-reforms  which  Savonarola 
had  most  at  heart,  and  began  to  oppose  them  bitter- 
ly.    The  reformer,  himself,  was  charged  with' un- 

*  "  Perchd,  avendo  io  predicate  molti  aani  per  volonta  di  Dio  in 
questa  voslra  citta,  e  sempre  proseguitate  quatlro  materie  ;  Ciod 
sforzatomi  con  ogni  mio  ingegno  di  provare  la  Fede  esser  vera :  e 
dimostrare  lasemplicita  deila  vita  Cristiana  essere  somma  sapienza: 
e  denunziare  le  cose  future,  delle  quali  alcune  sono  venule,  e  le  altre 
di  corto  hanno  a  venire  :  ed  in  ultimo  di  queslo  nuovo  Governo  della 
vostra  citt^  :  e  avendo  gia  posto  in  iscritto  le  tre  prime  ;  .  .  .  resta 
che  noi  scriviamo  ancora  de!la  quarta  materia,  accioche  tutto  il 
mondo  veda  die  noi  predichiamo  scienza  sana,  e  concorde  alia  ragi- 
one  naturale  ed  alia  dottrina  della  chiesa." 

These  are  words  introductory  to  a  brief  treatise  (trattatello)  upon 
the  new  government  which  Florence  needed.  The  words  which 
follow  express  the  hopes  of  Savonarola  for  that  excellence  of  life  to 
which  he  was  continually  calling  the  Florentines. 

"Cosi  in  breve  tempo  si  ridurra  la  citta  a  tantaReligione,  che  sark 
como  un  Paradiso  terrestre,  e  viverk  in  giubilo,  e  in  canti  e  salmi;  e 
i  fanciulli  e  fanciulle  saranno  come  angeli,  e  gli  nutreranno  nel 
vivcr  Cristiano  e  civile  insiemc:  per  gli  quali  poi  al  tempo  suo  si  fari 
nella  citta  il  governo  piu  tosto  celeste  che  terrestre,  e  sark  tanta  la 
letizia  dei  buoni,  die  avranno  una  ccrta  fdicitii  spirituale,  in  questo 
mondo." 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  167 

becoming  interference  in  secular  affairs,  although 
many  of  his  brother-priests  were  far  more  active  in 
the  world's  cause  or  their  own,  than  he.  "Any 
matter,"  he  replied,  "ordained  to  the  glory  of  God 
and  the  good  of  men  belongs  to  my  office;  and  all 
I  do,"  he  added,  "oh  Florence,  is  in  thy  love." 
Savonarola  was  disinterested  in  all  things,  taking 
no  thought  for  wealth  or  power,  but  looking  to  a 
harvest  in  broader  fields.  Pope  Alexander  Borgia, 
the  most  monstrous  pope  that  poor,  abused  Chris- 
tendom had  ever  obeyed,  began  to  dread  lest  Savo- 
narola's voice  should  be  turned  against  him,  and 
would  have,  at  once,  bribed  the  preacher  to  silence 
by  the  gift  of  a  Cardinal's  hat :  but  Alexander  had 
his  answer  in  the  next  sermon  from  that  Cathe- 
dral pulpit  in  Florence — "The  only  red  hat  I 
shall  ever  wear,  will  be  red  with  my  own  blood 
in  martyrdom" — and  words  like  these  were  enough 
to  make  any  pope  shake  with  fear.  It  would 
have  been  as  easy  to  stay  a  mountain-torrent  by 
splinters,  as  to  turn  Savonarola  by  bribes  from  the 
course  he  was  destined  to  pursue. 

We  pass  over  the  long  and  confused  war,  be- 
tween Florence  and  Pisa,  in  which  the  Pisans, 
feebly  aided  by  the  French  king,  would  have  freed 
themselves  from  the  government  of  their  old  allies 
but  present  oppressors,  the  Florentines.  It  is  right, 
however,  to  say,  that  Savonarola  encouraged  his 
people  in  fighting  to  the  injury  of  their  neighbors, 
instead  of  persuading   them,  as  we  should  have 


168  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

imagined,  to  give  the  Pisans  all  the  liberty  they 
desired.  But  it  is  equally  right  to  say,  that  the 
Pisans  were  quite  incapable  of  governing  them- 
selves, and  that,  having  prevailed  against  the 
Florentines,  they  speedily  submitted  to  the  con- 
trol of  harder  and  more  distant  masters.  The 
war  itself  was  of  no  possible  importance. 

Once  only,  and  then  but  for  a  short  time,  Savona- 
rola was  absent  from  Florence  during  the  last 
years  of  his  life.  He  went  back  to  Bologna,  called 
there  to  preach  in  some  festival  season.  Among 
the  throng  which  flocked  about  his  pulpit,  was 
the  wife  of  Bentivoglio,  lord  of  Bologna.  She 
came  to  hear  him  preach  quite  constantly,  but 
was  often  so  late  and  always  so  pompous  in 
coming,  that  Savonarola  was  bold  enough,  at  last, 
to  rebuke  her  before  his  whole  audience.  So 
singularly  offended,  she  besought  her  husband  to 
put  the  insolent  priest  to  death,  and  Savonarola 
would  have  been  slain  had  not  the  very  assassins 
who  surprised  him,  been  stayed  by  his  serenity 
and  resolution.  It  was  in  earlier  years,  as  he 
once  journeyed  between  Ferrara  and  Mantua, 
that  he  happened  to  cross  some  river  in  the  same 
boat  with  ten  or  a  dozen  soldiers.  Their  licentious 
manners  and  blasphemous  language  moved  him 
to  speak  with  them,  and  so  earnestly  did  he  win 
their  attention,  so  warmly  did  he  awaken  their 
better  feelings  within  them,  that  they  threw  them- 
selves at  his  feet,  confessing  their  sins  aloud  and 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  169 

imploring  his  pardon.  Remembering  what  the 
soldiers  of  his  days  were,  mercenary  and  debauched 
men,  we  can  believe  that  this  was  no  common 
persuasion  which  moved  hard  and  forgetful  hearts 
to  repentance.  Savonarola  did  not  speak  in  vain, 
and  such  spirit  obeyed  his  call,  that  Florence 
seemed  to  be  suddenly  filled  with  brave  men  and 
virtuous  women  in  the  place  of  its  feeble  and  cor- 
rupted people.  A  famine  fell  upon  the  city,  but  it 
brought  none  of  its  common  miseries.  The  rich 
took  care  for  the  poor  ;  grain  was  bought  in  large 
quantities  to  be  sold  again  at  old  prices ;  money 
was  offered  even  to  the  state,  without  interest ; 
and  Florence  seemed  well  deserving  of  her  liberty. 
A  plague  followed  the  famine,  and  that  was  a 
trouble  against  which  benevolence  was  of  little 
avail ;  but  although  the  citizens  fled  their  homes, 
and  monks  abandoned  their  convents,  Savonarola 
remained  at  the  side  of  the  sick  and  dying.  "  We 
must  put  our  trust  in  the  Lord,"  he  said,  "not  in 
flight;"  and  he  was  spared  to  labor  longer  in  his 
still  abundant  vineyard. 

The  principle  of  purity  was  the  great  principle 
of  Savonarola's  reforms.  His  own  words,  taken  al- 
most at  random,  are  these  :  "■  the  world  is  no  more 
quickened  with  dews  from  Heaven,  but  rather, 
leaving  Christian  limits,  it  runneth  fast  towards 
paganism."  That  one  word  "  paganism "  ex- 
presses the  whole  spirit  of  Savonarola's  age.  So 
many  changes   could  not  be  worked,  so  many 


170  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

hopes,  even,  could  not  be  formed,  without  some 
confusion  and  some  error.  The  tendency  of  things, 
political,  ecclesiastical,  philosophical,  was  towards 
truth,  but  there  was  still  a  weary  and  a  cloudy 
separation  between  truth  to  come  and  things  as 
they  were.  Savonarola  could  see  that  the  holiest 
springs  of  life  were  becoming  turbid,  while  Chris- 
tian faith  and  Christian  knowledge  were  dark 
with  stains. 

The  treasure-houses  of  antiquity  had  been 
opened  to  the  search  of  men;  but  though  great 
stores  of  learning  were  found,  there  was  brought 
from  them  much  that  was  evil  and  decayed.  The 
poetry  and  philosophy  of  Greece  took  refuge  in 
Italy,  after  the  fall  of  the  long-crumbling  Eastern 
Empire.  The  orators  and  historians  and  poets  of 
old  Rome  were  restored  to  the  places  they  had 
long  before  lost.  Great  libraries,  such  as  the 
Laurentian  and  St.  Mark's,  were  founded  in  Flor- 
ence, and  the  hidden  hoards  of  the  Vatican  were 
begun  in  Rome.  Scholars  became  the  counsellors 
of  Italian  states,  as  Simoneta,  the  historian,  was 
also  Simoneta,  the  chief-minister,  during  a  troubled 
regency  in  Milan.  There  were  men  of  noble 
birth,  who  preferred  to  any  others,  the  honors 
they  could  win  by  devoting  themselves  to  litera- 
ture, and  one  among  their  number,  Giovanni  Pico 
della  Mirandola,  was  the  most  wonderfully  accom- 
plished scholar  of  his  time.  Even  women  were 
attracted  to  the  pursuits,  in  which  their  graceful- 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  171 

ness  can  be  always  agreeably  contrasted  with 
man's  industry,  and  Cassandra  Fidelis,  of  a  Mil- 
anese family,  deservedly  won  the  name  of  Decus 
ItallcB.  Historians  are  right  to  associate  th  is  period 
of  Italian  history  with  the  name  of  Lorenzo  de' 
Medici ;  and  just  as  he  was  great  in  some  things 
but  not  in  all  things,  so  to  the  literature  which 
grew  up  around  him,  there  belonged  two  sides, 
one  bright  and  glorious,  the  other  dark  and  shame- 
ful. The  virtue  in  which  the  new  studies  were  be- 
gun, changed  to  what  may  be  fairly  called  vice,  as 
they  were  continued.  Christian  names,  given  in 
baptism,  were  abandoned  for  those  of  mythology  or 
old  story.  Nuns  bore  the  name,  if  not  the  char- 
acter, of  Vestals:  the  Virgin  was  hailed  the  god- 
dess Mary ;  Christ  our  Saviour  was  called  the  son 
of  Jove  ;  Providence  was  known  only  as  fate.  Pope 
Alexander's  election  was  proclaimed  as  though  he 
were  a  God,  (taken  probably  for  Charon  the 
ferryer  to  hell :) 

Opes  quae  sunt  tibi,  Roma,  novus  fert  deus  iste  tibi. 

Plato  was  almost  worshipped,  especially  in  the 
house  of  Marsilio  Ficino,  the  Florentine  scholar, 
who  kept  a  lamp  constantly  burning  before  a  bust 
of  the  great  old  Grecian ;  and  more  faith  was  given 
to  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle  than  to  the  Gospel 
of  Christ.  But  all  ''  the  subtleties  of  philosophy 
were  like  dust "  to  Savonarola.*     He  was  asked, 

*  "  Sono  le  suttiliti  dei  filosofi  como  polvere  .  .  Fanno  di  questa 
filosofia  e   dcUa  Scritlura  Santa  e  logica  un  mescuglio,  e  questo 


172  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

he  tells  us,  during  his  noviciate,  why  he  could 
spend  time  or  thought  upon  such  an  antiquated 
chronicle  as  the  Bible.  Education,  itself,  became 
unworthy  of  Christian  understandings.  To  purify 
the  studies  of  children  and  of  men,  to  bring  moral 
and  intellectual  excellence  close  together,  to  fill 
all  minds  with  sincere  and  holy  knowledge,  —  to 
do  this  was  Savonarola's  earnest  desire,  and  so  far 
as  he  was  trusted,  so  long  as  he  was  spared,  his 
desire  was  faithfully  fulfilled.  The  best  proof  we 
have  of  his  success,  limited  as  it  certainly  was,  is 
in  the  friendships  which  were  given  him  by  the 
scholars  of  his  time,  all  alike  grateful  for  the  honor 
to  which  he  would  have  exalted  the  best  pur- 
poses of  their  lives.  Pico  della  Mirandola  loved 
him ;  Angelo  Politiano,  bound  to  the  Medici,  was 
yet  free  enough  to  declare  his  reverence  for  the 
learned  prior  of  St.  Mark's ;  Benivieni,  the  poet, 
trusted  in  the  preacher's  warm  spirited  promises; 
Marsilio  Ficino,  the  Platonist.  allied  hmiself  to 
Savonarola,  the  Christian. 

The  passionate  pursuit  of  new  studies  in  art 
soon  led  to  errors  akin  to  those  which  deformed 
the  new  studies  in  literature.  The  painters  of  the 
fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  prepared  the  day 
of  triumph,  whose  hero  was  Raffael,  but  at  very 
sunrise,  there  were  gathered  such  clouds  about 
the  eastern  skies,  that  their  glorious  light  was  for 

vendono  sopra  li  pergami,  e  le  cose  di  Dio  e  della  Fcde  lasciano 
stare."    [From  a  Sermon.] 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  173 

a  moment  dimmed.  What  the  French  sculptor, 
Falconet,  said  of  Michelagnolo,  Tai  vu  Michel 
A?ige,  et  il  est  effrayant,  is  only  partly,  but  very 
really,  descriptive  of  art  in  those  years  when  An- 
gelo  was  young,  himself  studying  in  the  academy 
which  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  established  in  Flor- 
ence. Palace-walls  and  church-altars  were  often 
haunted  by  evil  shapes  of  painting  and  sculpture, 
too  evil  to  be  even  told.  Music  itself,  holiest  of 
arts,  became  discordant  and  impure,  and  was,  at 
last,  abandoned  to  the  orgies  of  a  southern  Carni- 
val. Savonarola  would  have  restored  all  the 
simplicity  and  purity  which  had  been  taken  away 
from  art.  He  knew  that  harmonies  are  dear  to 
Christian  souls,  and  with  their  breath  would  have 
driven  forth  the  evil  spirit  which  was  in  the 
world.  He  knew  how  men  love  beauty,  and  would 
have  clothed  it  in  white  robes,  emblems  of  inno- 
cence and  majesty.  The  artists  of  Florence,  such 
as  Andrea  della  Robbia,  Lorenzo  di  Credi,  and 
Botticelli,*  all  devoted  themselves  to  Savonarola's 
great  aims.  Baccio  della  Porta,  most  warmly  of 
all,  shared  in  the  aspirations  of  the  pure-hearted 
reformer,  and  at  his  teacher's  death,  sought  peace 
within  convent-walls,  dying  an  humble  friar,  but 
leaving  to  us  the  name  and  works  of  Fra  Bar- 
tolommeo. 

These  manifold  reforms,  successively  begun  by 

*  See  note  at  the  end. 


174  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

Savonarola,  were  far  from  being  acceptable  to 
ni,any  men  of  his  own  age,  and  from  their  hearts, 
"  hard,"  he  said,  "  as  stones,"  he  turned  to 
younger  and  fresher  ones,  whose  love  was  more 
easily  won,  and  whose  hopes  were  more  quickly 
kindled.  He  called  a  new  generation,  the  boys 
and  girls  of  Florence,  around  him,  and  to  them  he 
disclosed  the  long-hidden  truths  of  faith  and  honor. 
They,  at  least,  he  thought,  would  gather  up  the 
fruits  he  was  planting  for  the  future  wants  of  his 
country  and  theirs.  The  trust  he  reposed  in  the 
innocent  promise  of  children  was  a  feeling  akin 
to  adoration.  ''  Angels  speak  with  them,"  he 
said  in  one  of  his  sermons.  Savonarola  began  to 
preach  what  may  be  called  a  domestic  reform  in 
the  care  of  young  children ;  and  for  them,  who 
were  older,  he  would  have  had  the  whole  plan  of 
education  made  larger  and  holier.  While  he 
lived,  he  was  unwearied  in  teaching  those  young 
followers  of  his  prayers  ;  he  divided  them  into  as- 
sociations governed  by  counsellors,  chosen  among 
themselves,  and  gave  them  chief  parts  in  the 
ceremonies  of  his  great  holydays. 

If  we  go  back,  in  the  last  years  of  Savonarola's 
life,  to  the  time  of  Carnival,  the  old  time  of  tumult 
and  revelry  and  shame,  we  shall  wait  in  vain  for 
scenes  which  were  everyday  siglits  through  the 
Medici  period.  Florence  is  itself  unchanged,  its 
people  look  upon  us  with  the  same  dark  eyes,  and 
speak  to  us  in  the  same  soft  language,  but  they  and 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  75 

their  doings  arc  all  unlike  what  was  once  there  in 
the  holyday  city.  This  Carnival-show  is  different 
from  the  procession  we  followed  on  Palm-Sunday. 
The  streets  are  filled  with  children,  all  dressed  in 
white,  and  wearing  the  cross  which  is  the  sign  of 
their  life-long  crusade.  We  can  watch  them  run- 
ning from  house  to  house,  demanding  at  every 
door,  "in  the  name  of  Christ  and  the  Virgin," 
such  objects  of  luxury  and  profane  art,  as  each 
house  contains.  So  soon  as  their  arms  are  laden 
with  pictures,  or  dresses,  or  ornaments,  or  even 
musical  instruments,  they  are  hastening  to  the 
great  square.  There  everything,  precious  and 
worthless,  bad  and  good,  is  thrown  upon  a  huge 
pile,  built  up  like  a  pyramid,  and  crowned  with  a 
monstrous  figure  which  means,  we  are  told,  the 
old  Carnival  itself  Close  to  this  huge  image  is 
hung  the  speedily  painted  portrait  of  a  Venetian 
mercljant,  who  just  came  out  with  an  offer  of 
twenty  thousand  crowns  for  this  mass  of  "vani- 
ties." The  meaning  of  this  is  characteristic  of 
the  whole  ceremony.  The  "  vanities  "  are  the  dif- 
ferent things  which  have  been  brought  by  the  rest- 
less children ;  and  some  of  the  excited  friars,  stalk- 
ing about  the  square,  declare  that  the  Venetian's 
effigy  shall  be  burned  "  as  chief  of  all  the  van- 
ities," because  he  was  eager  to  save  them  from 
destruction.  When  the  Carnival-pile  is  crowded 
and  covered,  so  that  it  can  bear  no  more,  children 
and  friars  and  people  get  together,  and  march, 


176  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

with  much  shouting,  chanting  and  (what  is  rather 
inconsistent,)  alms-gathering,  to  the  Cathedral, 
where  they  cross  themselves,  with  a  devout 
prayer,  and  then  return  to  the  great  square,  the 
scene  of  sacrifice.  Throwing  banners  and  images 
upon  their  huge  burnt-offering,  they  kindle  it 
rapidly,  amid  sounds  of  music,  bells,  and  songs. 
The  fire  spreads,  the  whole  air  seems  in  a  blaze, 
and  the  pile  cracks  and  burns  and  falls,  while  the 
crowd  joins,  with  loud  rejoicing,  in  the  Te  Deum. 
Strange  as  all  this  is  to  us,  even  after  what  we 
have  already  seen  on  Palm-Sunday,  it  is  but  the 
natural  outpouring  of  that  enthusiasm  which  Sa- 
vonarola has  awakened  among  his  people. 

The  alms-gathering,  which  seemed  a  contra- 
diction to  Savonarola's  generous  professions,  was 
for  the  poor,  not  for  him ;  and  the  moneys,  taken, 
were  collected  in  a  Monte  di  Pietd,  a  Mount- 
Charity.  All  who  were  needy  might  then  go  to 
this,  sure  to  have  their  wants  relieved  by  a  free 
loan  of  any  moderate  sum.  Usury  and  poverty 
were  stripped  of  their  worst  miseries,  and  as  Sa- 
vonarola's benevolent  purposes  were  more  fully 
known,  offerings,  from  individuals  and  from  gov- 
ernment, were  so  multiplied,  that  not  only  one,  but 
three  of  these  ''-mountains,"  delectable  moun- 
tains indeed,  were  soon  raised.  The  recorded 
offer  of  a  Jew,  to  the  Florence  magistrates,  that 
he  would  pay  them  twenty  thousand  florins,  (or 
fifty  thousand  dollars,)  to  prevent  the  estabhsh- 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  177 

merit  of  these  charities  is  abundant  testimony  to 
their  worth  and  their  usefuhiess.  They  deserved 
the  name  which  they  acquired  of  "pious  asylums 
for  suffering  humanity,"  and  the  example  in 
Florence  was  followed  in  other  cities  of  Italy.  So, 
at  Savonarola's  bidding,  there  rose  these  fountains 
of  refreshing  waters,  at  which  men  athirst  could 
drink  and  be  satisfied. 

It  was  more  than  two  years  after  the  departure 
of  the  Medici  from  insulted  Florence,  when  Signor 
Pietro,  having  failed  in  all  his  advances  towards 
reconciliation,  came  back,  followed  by  a  goodly 
number  of  armed  men.  Without  the  gates,  which 
were  speedily  closed  against  him,  the  exile  waited 
for  some  movement  in  his  favor  from  within ;  but, 
his  professed  friends,  the  Greys,  choosing,  perhaps, 
to  keep  themselves  dark,  until  Pietro  could  do 
something  hraiself  to  support  them,  never  an  arm 
was  lifted  for  him,  never  a  voice  shouted  for  him, 
and,  in  despair,  he  turned  away  once  more  from 
the  home  which  refused  him,  to  wander  and  die, 
at  last,  among  strangers.  But  his  appearance  at 
the  gates  of  Florence,  sternly  as  it  had  been  met, 
was  followed  by  fresh  troubles  among  the  citizens. 
The  Gonfaloniere,  chief  magistrate  according  to 
the  last  constitution,  at  this  time,  was  an  old  man 
of  honorable  family,  by  name  Bernardo  del  Nero. 
He  was  one  of  the  Grey  faction,  favoring  the  old 
state  of  things,  yet  never  directly  opposed  to  the 
new,  and,  like  several  other  eminent  citizens  of  the 

12 


178  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

same  moderate  principles,  he  had  been  chosen  to 
the  high  office,  which,  among  such  a  people  as 
the  Florentines,  most  needed  moderation  in  its 
exercise.  Bernardo  del  Nero,  known,  therefore, 
to  be  attached  to  the  Medici,  was  straightway 
condemned  to  death,  with  four  other  distinguished 
men  of  the  Greys,  for  having  shared  secretly  in 
the  plans,  which  had  just  failed.  This  hurried 
sentence  was  pronounced  upon  the  five  citizens  by 
an  extraordinary  tribunal,  and,  without  being  al- 
lowed the  common  right  of  appeal  to  the  Grand 
Council,  they  were  executed  on  the  same  day  of 
their  trial.  Bernardo  del  Nero  was  more  than 
seventy-five  years  old,  and,  as  he  said,  had  little 
life  to  lose;  but  for  that  little,  Savonarola  might 
have  pleaded,  we  must  think,  and  pleaded  suc- 
cessfully. It  was  the  time  for  his  voice  to  be 
heard,  reminding  his  people  that  Mercy  may  walk 
hand  in  hand  with  Authority,  and  preventing  them 
from  doing  wrong  to  justice  they  professed  to 
honor,  wrong  to  liberty  they  professed  to  love. 
Their  state,  Savonarola's  state,  was  never  Chris- 
tian, so  long  as  faction  or  injustice  or  strife  pre- 
vailed. One  of  the  principles  upon  which  the 
reformer  had  founded  his  government,  was  that 
of  severe  and  even  arbitrary  punishment  of  any- 
thing like  sedition  or  returning  tyranny.*     It  has 

*  " Ilcjn,  provvcdere  che  clii  fosse  trovato  in  fallo  senzaremissione 
alcuna  fosse  punilo  :  pcrclie  clii  non  e  scvero  in  punire,  non  puo 
conservare  i  regni."  This  is  from  his  Trallaiodcl  Govcrno.  Ac- 
cording to  Guicciardini  {Storia,  Lib.  m.),  the  reasoning  among  the 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  179 

been  already  shown,  that  the  great  pohtical  ob- 
jects with  all  Italians  were  security  and  freedom 
joined  in  one.  But  this  triumph  of  the  popular 
party,  the  Weepers,  over  Pietro  and  his  adherents 
was  the  beginning  of  their  downfall  and  of  Savo- 
narola's sufferings. 

The  end  of  the  adventurous  journey  is  draw- 
ing near.  The  Florentine  capitalists,  unwilling 
to  see  their  largest  sources  of  money-making 
buried  beneath  Mount  Charities,  are  first  and  fore- 
most among  Savonarola's  enemies  at  home.  The 
city-tradesmen  find,  to  their  dismay,  that  half  their 
profits  from  luxuries  are  at  an  end.  The  elderly 
citizens  are  disgusted  with  things  about  them  so 
different  from  their  early  debaucheries,  and  the 
nobles  are  indignant  that  they  are  still  controlled 
by  what  William  Roscoe  dared  to  call  the  worship 
of  the  "golden  calf"  reformer.  This  is  a  suffi- 
ciently formidable  array,  but,  led  by  furious  priests 
from  Rome,  it  was  a  thousand-fold  more  danger- 
ous to  the  simple-hearted  man  whose  faithfulness 
to  the  great  ^'■earnings  of  humanity  was  sorely  to 
be  tried.  Pope  Alexander,  raging  with  fear  for 
himself,  twice  prohibited  the  prior  of  St.  Mark's 
from  preaching  in  Florence,  and,  at  length, 
charging  him  Avith  contumacy  and  heresy,  the 
pope  summoned  the  monk  to  Rome. 

citizens  on  the  point  of  refusing  to  del  Nero  and  his  feliow-sufTerers 
the  appeal  they  claimed,  was  this  :  "  Che  le  leggi  medcsime  conce- 
dono,che  per  fuggire  i  tumulti,  possonoessere  le  leggi  incase  simile 
dispensate." 


180  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

Savonarola  was  no  theological  reformer.  How- 
ever much  he  might  lament  the  iniquities  which 
filled  his  "  mother-church,"  he  was  her  steadfast 
and  pious  son,  even  to  the  end.  His  arrows  were 
aimed  at  the  priests  and  not  at  the  altars  of  Rome. 
He  would  have  restored  to  Catholic  worship  its 
beauty  and  solemnity,  Avithout  changing  either  its 
nature  or  its  forms.  The  age  in  which  he  lived 
was  not  prepared  to  deny  popedom  altogether, 
but  whatever  could  he  its  natural  expression  of 
hostility  to  the  efforts  which  popedom  was  still 
making  to  maintain  itself,  was  faithfully  declared 
by  Savonarola.  He  walked  in  a  dim-dawning 
light;  we  follow  in  the  glowing  noon-time;  but 
it  is  not  our  part  to  deny  him,  who  labored  before 
us  in  the  morning,  the  glory  and  the  gratitude 
which  he  fairly  won.  The  awakening  of  such  a 
spirit  as  Luther's  was  quickened  after  the  early 
slumber  of  such  a  spirit  as  Savonarola's. 

The  pope's  summons  was  resisted  by  the  prior, 
who  still  possessed  much  cordial  support  in  Flor- 
ence. Yet  Savonarola  abandoned  his  pulpit  to 
his  most  trusted  follower,  Fra  Domenico  da  Pes- 
cia,  superior  of  a  Dominican  convent  at  Fiesole, 
and  Pope  Alexander  was  content  for  the  present 
with  this  submission.  It  was  a  breathing  time  to 
the  reformer,  when  he  went  back  to  his  convent- 
peace  and  seemed  to  forget  that  there  was  any 
other  world  for  him  to  dwell  in ;  but  he  came 
forth,  almost  too  soon,  and  the  unc(pial  strife  be- 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  181 

tween  him  and  his  enemies  was  renewed.  Ail 
he  had  now  to  depend  upon  was  the  fast-sinlving 
spirit  of  his  people.  Such  a  storm  was  raised  in 
Rome,  as  neither  magistrates  nor  citizens  in  Flor- 
ence dared  to  meet,  and  the  mark  of  its  rage  was 
one  brave,  single-minded  man.  The  "  son  of  blas- 
phemy," so  ran  the  papal  bnll,  was  excommuni- 
cated ;  *  and,  though  it  might  have  been  difficult  to 
decide  whether  Pope  Alexander  or  Friar  Girolamo 
were  the  real  blasphemer,  many,  who  had  hitherto 
been  wavering  between  fear  and  hate  of  the  reform- 
er, were  now  encouraged  to  decide  against  him, 
and  there  was  nothing  left  for  Savonarola  but  to 
defend  himself  unto  the  last.  Not  yet  would  he 
yield  his  life-long  purposes  to  despair,  but,  coimting 
upon  the  love  of  his  better  followers,  he  went  back 
to  his  pulpit  in  the  early  spring-time  of  1498.  His 
words  were  tender  and  fresh  and  hopeful  even  in 
those  dark-winged  hours.  The  warmth  of  his 
nature  was  kindled  to  fanaticism,  and  he  began 
to  believe  that  Heaven  would  sustain  him  by  mir- 
acles. We  care  to  hear  no  more  about  these  pro- 
phecies and  pretensions  of  his,  than  about  any  for- 
gotten delusions  of  other  men,  yet  that  these  were 
believed  in  his  life-time,  is  more  than  proved  by 
the  request  of  Gian  Francesco  della  Mirandola, 

*  The  common  causes  of  this  sentence  are  reported  by  the  Floren- 
tine historian  Nardi,  (lib.  HI.)  "  La  prima  era  che  essendo  citato  a 
Roma,  non  aveva  voluto  comparire  ;  la  seconda  perche  ei  predicava 
eretica  e  perversa  dotlriua." 


182  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

who  besought  Savonarola  to  bring  back  to  life  his 
uncle  Pico,  then  dead  for  many  years.  Savona- 
rola, himself,  once  offered  to  try  his  supernatural 
power  with  any  of  his  adversaries  by  raising  up  a 
corpse  from  its  sepulchre.  It  is  necessary  to  know 
these  things,  and  to  comprehend  the  way  in  which 
they  were  known  to  the  Florentines,  in  order  to 
look  back  upon  Savonarola  as  he  was,  not  merely 
as  he  might  have  been.  As  a  prophet  he  was 
mistaken,  just  as  he  was  mistaken  as  a  politician  ; 
but  there  was  so  much  in  which  he  was  not  mis- 
taken, that  there  need  be  no  doubt  about  "  speak- 
ing reverently  of  such  a  really  great  man."  *  The 
world,  in  which  his  spirit  dwelt,  was  filled  with 
shapes,  vast  and  unreal,  which  he  followed  about, 
until  he  was  lost  in  their  mystery.  If  he  was  a 
fanatic,  it  was  not  for  his  own  sake  but  for  his 
solemn  cause;  yet  we  would  rather  try  his  strength 
than  his  weakness,  even  as  we  forget  that  Alex- 
ander called  himself  the  son  of  Jove,  or  that  Na- 
poleon believed  in  an  imchristian  fate.  It  is  easier 
to  do  men  dishonor  than  to  do  them  honor. 

At  last,  there  came  to  Florence  a  hot-brained 
Franciscan  friar,  named  Fra  Francesco  da  Puglia, 
commissioned  by  the  pope  to  preach  against 
the  heresies  of  her  reformer  on  his  own  ground. 
He  soon  gathered  about  him  a  motley  crowd  of 
Savonarola's  enemies,   although  his   inability  to 

*  "  lo  non  voglio  giudicare  .  .  perch^  d'uii  tanto  uomo  se  ne  debbe 
parlare  con  rivercnza."    Machiavclli.  Disc,  sopra  Tito   Livio.l.  \i. 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  183 

put  down  the  man  Ihey  feared  by  honest  argu- 
ment, was  soon  proved.  Full  of  disappointment 
and  malignity,  Fra  Francesco  proposed  that  his 
truth  and  Savonarola's  should  be  tried  by  their 
passing  together  through  flames.  There  are  many 
different  stories  about  the  manner  in  which  this 
strange  offer  was  received  ;  but  this,  at  least,  is 
clear,  that  Savonarola  refused  the  trial  for  himself, 
although  he  was  persuaded  to  consent  that  his 
eager  disciple  Fra  Domenico  de  Pescia  should  ac- 
cept it  in  his  place.  We  can  fully  share  calm 
Muratori's  surprise  at  "the  revival  of  a  trial  so 
terrible  and  so  long  forgotten,  at  the  end  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  by  monks  of  Florence,  and  even 
with  the  consent  of  Girolamo  Savonarola,  a  man 
not  less  celebrated  for  piety  than  for  profound 
learning."  It  was  not  because  Girolamo  Savona- 
rola was  wanting  in  self-confidence,  for  he  had 
trusted  in  himself  through  more  than  one  hard 
time ;  nor  that  he  believed  in  the  efficiency  of 
such  struggles  against  Providence,  for  he  was  de- 
voutly humble  through  all  his  mysticism ;  but  it 
was,  perhaps,  that  he  feared  to  lose  the  people's 
faith  and  his  disciples'  love,  by  resisting  alone  a 
violence  of  spirit,  from  which  he  was  himself  not 
wholly  pure.  Nearly  all  his  monks  would  have 
gone  through  fire  or  water  for  their  prior,  in  full 
faith  of  being  saved  alive.  Francesco  da  Puglia, 
however,  refused  to  expose  himself  with  any  other 
companion  than  Savonarola  himself,  but  another 


184  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

Franciscan  monk,  Fra  Bartolommeo  Rondinelli, 
came  forward  to  take  the  place  of  Fra  Francesco, 
who  was  not  much  of  a  champion  by  nature. 
Pope  Alexander  was  delighted  with  him,  and 
wrote  to  the  Franciscans  as  a  body,  thanking  them 
for  this  devotion  of  one  among  their  number  to 
the  honor  of  popedom,  now  directly  set  against 
reform. 

The  preparations  for  the  fiery  trial,  eagerly 
awaited  by  priests,  magistrates,  and  citizens  in 
Florence,  were  soon  made  by  ten  commissioners, 
equally  chosen  from  among  the  Weepers  and  the 
Madmen,  names  more  than  ever  appropriate  to 
passions,  themselves  flames.  A  scaffolding,  eight 
feet  high,  twelve  wide,  and  eighty  long,  with  a 
space  left  open  in  the  centre  for  a  passage  way, 
and  covered  at  the  sides  with  earth,  on  which  the 
fire  might  be  built,  was  quickly  constructed  m 
the  public  square. 

When  the  day  comes,  (the  seventh  of  April, 
1498,)  it  brings  scenes  for  us  to  look  upon.  In 
the  early  morning,  Savonarola  celebrates  high 
mass,  and  declares,  from  the  pulpit,  his  belief  in 
the  goodness  of  his  cause,  and  his  trust  in  super- 
natural assistance  from  Heaven.  "  So  far  as  the 
result  is  revealed  to  me,"  he  says,  "I  can  see 
that  Fra  Uomenico  will  pass  through  the  flames 
uninjured,  if  the  trial  be  made  at  all ;  "  but  the 
prophet's  eyes  were  already  grown  dim.     He  be- 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  185 

seeches  the  prayers  of  his  brethren  for  their  cham- 
pion, gives  them  his  blessing  from  a  troubled 
heart,  and  then,  at  the  head  of  the  Dominicans, 
walks  forth  towards  the  square,  followed  by  men, 
women  and  children,  bearing  lighted  torches  and 
chanting,  with  loud  voices,  the  verse  of  their  famil- 
iar psalm,  "  Let  the  Lord  arise,  and  let  His  ene- 
mies be  scattered  before  Him." 

The  square  is  half  filled  with  troops  of  armed 
men,  defenders  of  one  party  or  the  other,  and 
with  people  excited  almost  to  frenzy,  by  their  hopes 
and  fears  for  the  trial  before  them.  Savonaro- 
la's appearance  is  hailed  with  many  different 
signs  of  affection  and  confidence,  hate  and  dread. 
Five  hundred  young  men  of  the  Compagnacci, 
Evil-Companions  to  an  evil  cause,  came  with  the 
Franciscans.  "Well  is  it  known,"  cries  old  Bur- 
lamachi,  in  honest  rage,  "  well  is  it  known  that 
the  purpose  of  these  bad  men  is  none  other  than 
to  kill  father  Girolamo  here,  where  he  stands  with 
us."  But  father  Girolamo  has  a  stout  defender 
named  Marcuccio  Salviati,  a  brave  soldier  him- 
self, who  is  there  with  three  hundred  well-armed 
men.  In  the  midst  of  hot  and  reckless  enmity, 
like  this  among  the  Florentines,  there  is  no  other 
chance,  it  seems,  for  judging  great  principles, 
than  by  just  such  an  ordeal  as  Savonarola  has 
accepted,  and  of  this  there  can  be  no  other  issue 
but  failure  to  him.  The  magistrates,  sitting  in 
state  before  the  public  palace  on  the  square,  now 


186 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 


name  two  commissioners  from  each  party  to 
watch  over  the  peace  and  safety  of  their  people  ; " 
but  had  each  commissioner  a  hmidred  eyes  and  a 
hunt' red  arms,  his  duty  would  be  mournfully 
impossible.  One  half  of  the  Loggia  de'  Signori,  — 
a  portico  before  which  the  scaffolding  is  built.  — 
one  half  of  this  is  occupied  by  the  Franciscans, 
the  other  by  the  Dominicans.  Savonarola  and 
his  followers  keep  on  reciting  prayers  and  psalms, 
while  Domenico  da  Pescia  remains  kneeling,  more 
in  faith,  than  in  doubt  of  triumph.  But  neither 
Bartolommeo  Rondinelli,  the  Franciscan  martyr, 
nor  Francesco  da  Puglia,  the  renowned  proposer 
of  the  trial,  is  any  where  to  be  seen.  Savonarola, 
at  least,  has  the  advantage  of  fanatic  resolution, 
but  that  Savonarola  shared  all  the  fevered  hopes 
of  his  brethren,  it  is  impossible  to  believe. 

The  day  is  cold,  and  rain  is  falling  upon  the 
people,  all  parched  with  expectation.  Some  sign 
appears,  at  last,  that  the  trial  is  to  be  made.  Men 
stand  with  lighted  torches  upon  the  scaffolding, 
and  the  friars  are  grouped  about  their  champions 
before  the  open  chapels.  But  not  yet ;  for  the 
Franciscans  declare  that  Domenico  da  Pescia  is 
protected  by  some  prepared  robes,  and  insist  upon 
his  changing  them.  "Be  it  so,"  says  Savonarola, 
"  and  bid  Fra  Alessandro  take  thy  robes,  Dome- 
nico, so  that  thou  shalt  wear  his  through  the  fire." 
Fra  Alessandro,  one  of  the  youngest  Dominicans, 
hears  himself  called,  —  called,  as  he  thinks,  to  take 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  187 

Fra  Domenico's  pl-ice, — and,  far  from  fearing  un- 
looked-for danger,  erics  out,  "  Te  Deum  lauda- 
mus,"  and  hastens  to  ask  the  priest's  blessing. 
There  could  be  given  us  no  more  touching  proof 
of  the  trust  which  is  put  in  Savonarola  by  his 
brethren.  Yet  again  there  is  delay ;  and  the 
Franciscans  object  that  Fra  Domenico  should 
bear  his  crucifix  through  the  flames ;  but  to  this 
the  Dominicans  will  not  yield,  maintaining  that 
"battle  should  not  be  done  for  Christ's  sake  with- 
out Christ's  arms."  The  populace  begin  to  think 
that  their  spectacle  is  to  fail  them ;  and  many, 
weary  and  wet  with  rain,  go  away  from  the 
square.  The  presiding  magistrates  lose  their 
patience,  and  order  proclamation  to  be  made  that 
the  monks  retire  in  peace,  not,  however,  without 
allowing  the  commissioners,  helpless  as  they  had 
been,  to  declare  that  the  Franciscans  had  prevent- 
ed the  trial  by  their  own  obstinacies  and  fears. 

But  the  followers  of  the  Franciscans  are  the 
Evil-Companions,  and  they,  caring  nothing  what- 
ever about  Fra  Domenico  or  Fra  Bartolommeo,  but 
very  bitterly  intent  against  the  reformer  they  have 
always  hated,  are  now  moving  towards  the  chapel 
in  the  Loggia.  Savonarola  is  in  danger,  but  is 
saved,  to-day,  at  least,  by  Marcuccio  Salviati, 
who  stands  forth  and  marks  with  his  sword  a  line 
upon  the  ground.  "  He  who  crosses  this  line,  let 
him  beware !  "  he  cries  to  the  threatening  Evil- 
Companions  :  and  they,  seeing  his  stout  form  and 


188  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

his  Stoutly  armed  soldiers  in  their  way,  give  up,  foi 
the  present,  their  purposes  against  Savonarola. 
Then  the  prior,  still  defended  by  Salviati,  leads 
back  his  monks  to  St.  Mark's,  and  there,  from  his 
church-pulpit,  recounts  the  confused  history  of 
this  tedious  and  unsuccessful  day.  Night  comes, 
presently,  and  the  worn  and  exhausted  reformer 
seeks  his  cell,  to  dream,  perhaps,  of  peace  he  will 
never  again  have  among  men.* 

The  conflict  through  which  Savonarola  had 
sincerely  and  unflinchingly  toiled,  was  at  an  end. 
One  day  had  apparently  changed  all  his  earnest 
hopes  into  failing  memories.  His  reforms  of  cus- 
tom, charity,  art,  education,  government,  and  wor- 
ship, were  struck  down  by  the  issue  of  a  single 
and  a  fanatic  enterprise.  So  it  seems  ;  but  it  was 
not  as  it  seemed.  The  trial  was  after  more  secret 
forms ;  the  cause  depended  upon  more  solemn 
principles;  and  the  judgment  was  a  judgment  of 
Heaven. 

Forty-eight  hours  after  the  scenes  upon  the 
square  were  finished,  St.  Mark's  was  surrounded,  at 
vespers,  by  the  Evil-Companions,  now  determined 
to  satisfy  their  rage  against  Savonarola.  Many 
of  the  citizens  were  with  them,  either  persuaded 

*  Thai  cell  in  St.  Mark's,  composed  of  two  small  rooms,  is  still  to 
be  seen.  Above  llie  door  are  these  poor  words  engraved  ;  Has  ccl- 
lulas,  Ven.  F.  Hieronymus  Savonarola,  Vir  ApostoUcus ,  inhabitavit. 
A  few  pieces  of  Savonarola's  robes  are  preserved  in  the  couvent- 
sairisty. 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  189 

that  the  man  to  whom  they  owed  so  much,  had  been 
guiUy  of  great  sin  in  wishing  to  send  a  crucifix 
with  his  champion,  Domenico,  mto  the  fire,  or 
bhndly  borne  against  him,  in  spite  of  better  mem- 
ories. After  all  his  preachings  they  were  eager 
to  have  their  passions  for  their  laws.  Coming 
through  the  open  street,  the  mob  of  Evil-Com- 
panions murdered  a  young  man,  whom  they  over- 
took, reciting  his  prayers  aloud,  and,  before  the 
convent  itself,  they  slew  an  artisan,  belonging  to 
one  of  the  shops  built  round  St.  Mark's,  because 
he  came  out,  "  slippers  in  hand,"  to  remonstrate 
against  their  madness.  Woe  to  Savonarola,  but 
greater  woe  to  them ! 

The  convent  doors  were  hastily  closed,  and  the 
brethren,  with  some  steadfast  citizens,  gathered 
round  the  prior.  He  would  have  gone  out  alone 
with  robe  and  cross  to  meet  his  enemies  ;  but,  en- 
treated to  remain,  he  called  his  disciples,  and 
kneeled  in  their  midst,  before  the  altar,  awaiting 
whatever  might  befall  him,  in  prayer.  One  of  the 
principal  citizens,  Francesco  Valori,  who  came 
perhaps,  as  was  his  wont,  to  vespers  at  St. 
Mark's,  now  went  out  to  summon  Florence  to 
rescue  her  only  real  friend  from  death.  The 
crowd,  thundering  at  the  church-doors,  fell  upon 
him  when  he  came  forth,  and  miu'dered  him  with- 
out fear.  His  death  was  the  omen  of  Savona- 
rola's destruction.  Into  the  very  church  broke 
the  Evil-Companions,^  shooting  at  the  frightened 


190  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

monks,  but  gallantly  resisted  by  such  citizens  as 
happened  to  have  arms,  and  to  be  there  with  Sa- 
vonarola. 

Darkness  and  dismay  were  prolonged  through 
many  slow  hours ;  —  men  were  lying  dead  or 
wounded  upon  the  church-pavement,  and  the  air 
was  filled  with  far  other  smoke  than  that  from 
incense  ;  — but  there,  in  that  scene  of  sacrilegious 
uproar,  before  a  dimly-lighted  altar,  and  in  the 
midst  of  timid-hearted  monks,  the  prior  still  knelt, 
praying  for  them,  for  himself,  and  even  aloud  for 
his  enemies.  At  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
came  messengers  from  the  magistrates  to  summon 
Savonarola  before  them.  He  asked  only  for  pro- 
tection against  the  violence  of  evil  men,  and  then 
turned  to  bid  his  brethren  farewell.  It  was  the 
last  time  that  he  spoke  to  them,  and,  after  all  the 
excitement  of  that  tempestuous  night,  his  words 
were  gentle  as  when  he  sat  with  them  beneath 
the  trees  of  the  convent-garden,  in  peaceful  hours. 
"I  am  ready,"  he  tells  them  now,  "  to  bear  all 
things  with  joy  in  the  Lord's  love,  for  in  nothing 
else  can  a  Christian  life  consist  than  doing  good 
and  enduring  evil."  He  gave  back  to  the  monks 
the  keys  of  oliicc  entrusted  to  him  in  better  times, 
and,  asking  their  prayers,  as  if  he  had  foreboding 
of  what  was  to  come,  he  went  away,  leaving  them 
in  tears.  The  ever-faithful  Domejiico  da  Pescia 
and  another  friar,  named  Silvestro  Maruffi,  ac- 
companied their  master.     They  were  directly  led 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  191 

to  prison,  amid  the  insults  of  men  for  whom  Sa- 
vonarola had  lived,  and  for  whom  he  was  to  die. 
The  branch  was  broken  and  trampled  down,  even 
by  those  to  whom  its  blossoms  were  once  a  de- 
light as  its  fruits  were  now  a  shame. 


IV. 


The  magirtrates,  in  power  at  the  time  of  Sa- 
vonarola's imprisonment,  were  of  wholly  different 
principles,  religious  and  political,  from  those  of 
the  fallen  reformer.  The  tendency  of  things,  ever 
since  the  repulse  of  Pietro  de'  Medici,  had  been 
towards  the  rejection,  sooner  or  later,  of  Savona- 
rola. They  among  the  Weepers  who  were  still 
attached  to  their  chief  counsellor,  were  yet  quite 
unable  to  save  him,  and  so  rapidly  did  their  num- 
bers fail,  that  to  save  themselves  it  was  necessary 
to  abandon  the  faith  they  had  but  briefly  followed. 
"No  crime,"  says  the  historian,  Nardi,  "now 
seemed  greater  than  that  of  having  believed  in 
friar  Girolamo." 

Savonarola,  in  his  prison,  looked  out  upon  a 
changed  world  from  which  his  labors,  full  and 
long,  already  seemed  swept  away.  Still  he  was 
blessed  in  his  own  virtue  and  affection,  and,  al- 
though he  himself  might  be  rejected,  there  was 


192  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

joy  unspeakable  and  indestructible  from  what  he 
had  done  in  love  for  mankind.  His  reforms  had 
come  to  an  end,  not  because  they  were  impossible, 
but  because  they  had  been  begun  too  early,  con- 
tinued too  imprudently,  and  carried  too  far  to  be 
secure.  He  was  an  enthusiast,  and  his  enthusi- 
asm had  deceived  him ;  he  was  simple-hearted, 
and  his  simplicity  exposed  him  to  injury ;  he  was 
stern,  even  with  much  charity,  and  his  sternness 
made  him  enemies  among  men  whom  he  could 
never,  perhaps,  have  made  his  friends.  Yet  nei- 
ther in  severity,  nor  in  simplicity,  nor  in  enthusi- 
asm, was  there  any  great  wrong  that  could  rise  up 
against  his  heart,  in  those  dungeon-hours,  which 
were  his  last.  He  had  "  fought  a  good  fight," 
he  had  "kept  the  faith"  in  which  he  believed, 
and,  as  he  had  taught  men  how  to  live,  he  was 
willing  to  teach  them  how  to  die.* 

Before  the  Grand  Council  of  Florence,  the  very 

*  Some  liaes  Savonarola  wrote,  when  he  was  younger,  must  have 
returned  to  his  memory  : 

"  Non  star,  cuor  mio,  piu  meco ; 
Se  viver  vuoi  in  pace, 
Vanne  a  Gcsu  e  sta  scco, 
Che  '1  mondo  e  si  fallace, 
Che  ormai  a  lui  non  piace 
Se  non  chi  e  traditore. 

"  Se  tu  stai  qui  in  terra, 
SaiJi  lua  vita  amara. 
In  og-ni  luogo  e  guerra, 
E  fade,  c  pace,  e  rara; 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  193 

council  created  by  him  whom  it  was  now  almost 
fearful  to  name  aloud,  there  was  one  man,  and 
only  one,  bold  enough  to  defend  Savonarola. 
Agnolo  Niccolini  declared  it  "an  impious  and  an 
execrable  deed  to  stain  Florence  with  the  blood  of 
one  so  great  and  so  rare  as  father  Girolamo  ;"  but 
though  the  good  Agnolo  spoke  bravely,  he  spoke 
in  vain.  Sixteen  judges,  taken  from  among  Sa- 
vonarola's enemies,  were  soon  collected  about  him, 
as  if  they  had  been  demons  rioting  over  the  plun- 
der of  a  great  spirit,  and  put  him  to  tortures, 
which  his  frame  was  too  weak  and  sensitive  to 
bear.  A  confession  against  himself  was  forced 
from  him,  but  it  was  retracted  as  soon  as  he  was 
loosened  from  torment.  Again  he  was  bound  and 
torn  ;  again  he  confessed  ;  again  he  denied ;  say- 
ing resolutely,  that  whatever  pain  might  wring 
from  him  was  all  untrue.  In  the  midst  of  severest 
agony,  he  prayed  aloud  that  his  persecutors  might 
be  softened  and  forgiven.  The  blessings  of  a 
holy  heart  were  upon  him,  even  in  that  terrible 
judgment-chamber. 

"  Refreshed  from  heaven, 
He  calms  the  throh  and  tempest  of  his  heart. 
His  countenance  settles  ;  a  soft,  solemn  bliss 
Swims  in  his  eye  —  his  swimming  eye  upraised  ; 
And  Faith's  whole  armor  glitters  on  his  limbs!  " 

Se  '1  te  la  vita  cara, 

Vanne  al  divin  splendore." 
Some  of  these  hours  of  imprisonment  were  employed  in  writing  a 
long  and  earnest  exposition  of  the  Miserere,  which  was  afterwards 
printed,  and  is  still  preserved. 

13 


194  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

Savonarola  had  need  of  "Faith's  whole  armor" 
to  protect  his  spirit  against  the  angry  passions 
which  burst  upon  him  from  all  sides.  Pope  Alex- 
ander, rejoicing  with  unchristian  vehemence,  sent 
to  Florence  his  own  commissioners,  bearing  or- 
ders to  hasten  the  condemnation  of  the  long- 
feared  reformer  in  spite  of  any  proofs  of  innocence. 
Before  these  men  and  his  Florentine  judges,  Sa- 
vonarola was  again  brought  out  from  the  prison, 
where  he  had  been  kept  more  than  a  month 
already,  and  when  they  had  sufficiently  charged 
him  with  heresy,  sacrilege,  and  sedition,  he  was 
condemned,  with  his  brethren  Domenico  and  Sil- 
vestro,  to  be  burned. 

There  was  too  little  left  to  Savonarola  that 
he  should  be  vexed  by  love  of  the  world  or  fear 
of  death.  He  prayed  for  his  companions  on 
the  last  morning  they  were  to  see,  (May  29th, 
1498,)  and  together,  they  and  he  went  forth 
to  die  upon  the  same  square  which  their  festi- 
vals had  filled  with  sunshine  and  devotion.  No 
one  of  these  three  was  now  unfaithful  to  the 
solemn  memories  and  the  more  solemn  hopes, 
which  neither  popes,  nor  judges,  nor  devils  could 
take  from  them.  Already  assembled  in  public, 
upon  the  square,  were  magistrates  and  prelates 
waiting,  as  criminals  a  reprieve,  the  end  of  a  life 
which  for  them  had  been  spent  in  vain.  There, 
too,  were  citizens  looking  on,  some  daring  to  re- 
joice,   but  most,  it  is  to   be  hoped,  only  fearing 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  195 

to  mourn  aloud.  Then,  among  this  crowd  of  wit- 
nesses, came  Savonarola,  earnest  as  he  was  al- 
ways, but  serener  in  look  and  gentler  in  manner 
than  he  had  seemed  to  the  people  when  they  most 
revered  him.  A  bishop  proclaimed  that  by  au- 
thority of  the  pope,  Savonarola  was  separated 
from  the  communion  of  the  church  triumphant ; 
but  "Not  so,"  answered  the  still  resolute  friar, 
"  for  only  from  the  communion  of  the  church 
militant  can  the  pope  separate  me."  The  three 
victims,  stripped  of  their  priestly  robes,  were  led 
forward  to  hear  their  sentence  repeated  before  all 
the  people,  and  were  then  taken  to  the  scaffold. 
Some  one  exhorted  Savonarola  to  be  of  good 
cheer,  for  the  works  he  had  done  would  not  fail. 
"Man,"  he  answered,  "hath  no  need  of  human 
praise  to  be  contented,  nor  is  this  life  the  time  of 
glory."  The  confessor,  who  had  been  with  him 
through  his  last  hours,  asked  if  he  had  anything 
more  to  say.  "No  more,"  was  the  calm  reply, 
"  than  to  ask  your  prayers,  and  to  entreat  my  fol- 
lowers to  bear  patiently  the  sufferings  my  death 
may  bring  them."  Memorable  words  of  forgive- 
ness and  sacrifice  !  The  crowd  shouted,  as  the 
monks  were  bound  by  the  executioner,  that  the 
time  for  the  prophet's  boasted  miracles  was  come, 
and,  lo  !  the  flames,  just  kindled,  are  driven  back 
by  a  gust  of  wind,  and  the  miracle  seems  accom- 
plished ;  yet  not  so,  for  again  the  fire  rises  fast,  leav- 


196  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

ing  still  untouched  Savonarola's  arm,  outstretched 
it  was  seen,  as  if  to  bless  his  ungrateful  people.* 
Savonarola  was  but  forty-five  years  old  when 
he  died,  "worthy,"  as  Muratori  says,  "of  better 
fortune."  But  what  that  unknown  voice  spoke 
to  him  on  the  scaffold,  that  his  good  works  would 
abide  with  men,  was  true  in  spite  of  strife  and 
sacrifice.  The  shepherd  was  slain,  and  his  flock 
was  driven  out  from  green  meadows  upon  stony 
lands:  but  the  pastures  it  was  forced  to  leave, 
had  not  given  their  nourishment  in  vain.  "  Let  a 
man  do  his  work ;  the  fruit  of  it  is  the  care  of 
Another  than  he."t  One  Madonna  of  Fra  Bar- 
tolommeo's  painting,  one  verse  of  deeper  poetry 
from  Benivieni,J  one  hope  of  heaven  bound  to 

*  "  Dum  fera  flamma  tuos,  Hieronyme,  pascitur  artus, 
Religio  sanctas  dilaniata  comas, 
Flevit,  et  O,  dixit,  crudeles  parcite  flammae, 
Parcile,  —  sunt  isto  viscera  nostra  rogo." 

Alarc'  Anionio  Flaminio. 

t  Carlyle,  in  his  Hero-Worship. 

t  "  Non  puo  rinferma  nostra  oscura  e  tarda 

Vista  mortal,  dal  suo  soverchio  lume 

Vinta  in  tutto,  passar  di  la  del  flume. 

"  Dal  bel  flume  gentil,  che  alcun  mortale 
Pie  non  trascende  a  le  celesti  rive, 
Di  cui  il  hel  colle  surge,  ove  chi  sale, 
Per  non  mai  piii  morir  contento  vive, 
E  dove  il  nudo  mio  cor  con  quelle  ale, 
Che  amor  nc  impcnna  a  I'alma  luci  e  vive 
Salircrede,  al  cui  specchio  si  fa  hello 
II  mondo  tutto  e  cio  chc  alberga  in  quelle." 

Bcnivieni. 


REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA.  197 

earth ;  if  nothing  more  were  left,  Savonarola's 
work  was  not  a  failure.  They  who  came  close 
after,  knew  that  in  him  they  had  still  a  comforter 
and  a  benefactor. 


Victis  jam  spes  bona  partibus  esto 


Exemplumque  mei. 

It  was  not  solitary  enthusiasm  which  led  Filippo 
Neri,  to  this  day  the  most  popular  saint  in  Italy, 
to  keep  a  bust  of  Savonarola  in  his  room,  or  to 
defend  the  purposes  of  a  life  he  looked  upon  as 
noble  and  sincere.  A  council  of  church-doctors, 
in  Filippo  Neri's  time,  declared  the  doctrines  of 
the  great  reformer  to  be  canonical  and  catholic. 
Raffael  placed  the  Florentine  prior  among  the 
faithful  servants  of  the  church  in  his  Fresco  of  the 
Sacrament,  which  is  still  upon  the  Vatican  walls. 
Florence,  itself,  was  speedily  filled  with  writings 
and  images,  bearing  father  Girolamo's  name,  and 
giving  grateful  justice  to  his  memory.  The  bless- 
ings of  his  peace  and  good- will  were  bright  in  con- 
trast with  the  curses  of  years  which  followed,  and 
the  place  where  he  died  was  long  after,  on  the 
anniversary  of  his  death,  strewn  thick  with  green 
branches  and  flowers.  His  writings  are  now  re- 
ceived and  read  where  they  were  long  neglected 
or  forbidden ;  his  portrait  is  reverently  hung  in 
the  palace-galleries  of  Italy;  his  cell  in  St.  Mark's 
is  sacred  ground  to  all  Catholic  hearts.  These 
things  are  the  signs  of  justice  returning  to  Savona- 


198  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

rola.  Be  they  also  among  many  greater  signs 
that  give  us  faith  in  generosity  to  man  and  de- 
votion to  God,  even  when  generosity  and  devotion 
seem  to  have  been  poured  out  in  vain  from  human 
souls.  The  cause,  for  which  Savonarola  sacri- 
ficed his  peace  and  his  life,  is  still  holy.  "  This 
work,"  it  was  his  own  prediction,  "though  I  am 
dead,  will  go  on,  for  it  is  the  work  of  Christ." 
Liberty  and  Religion  are  of  things  eternal. 


NOTE 


See  page  173. 

I  add  a  simple  account  of  the  chief  among  these  artists,  who 
entered  into  Savonarola's  reforms.  They  were  famous  men  in  their 
times,  but  little  is  known  of  them  among  us. 

Andrea  della  Robbia,  who  died  in  1528,  at  a  very  advanced  age, 
was  a  nephew  of  Luca  della  Robbia,  known  more  as  the  inventor  of 
a  varnish,  by  which  his  works  in  terra  cotta  are  yet  preserved,  than 
as  the  sculptor  of  the  works  themselves.  Andrea  inherited  his 
uncle's  secret,  and  employed  it  to  his  own  advantage,  although  he 
worked  in  marble  as  well  as  in  terra  cotta.  He  was  a  sculptor  of 
mystical  and  saint-like  forms,  of  which  the  imaginings  must  have 
come  from  his  constant  intercourse  with  Savonarola.  Andrea  had 
five  sons,  two  of  whom  entered  the  Convent  of  St.  Mark  in  Savo- 
narola's life-time.  The  other  three  followed  their  father's  art,  and 
distinguished  themselves  at  Rome  and  at  the  Court  of  Francis  First 
of  France.  Vasari  says  that  "  this  family  della  Robbia  were  al- 
ways the  devoted  followers  of  Savonarola,  and  made  likenesses  of 
him  after  the  manner  which  is  still  to  be  seen  in  their  medals." 

Lorenzo  di  Credi  died  about  1531,  seventy-eight  years  old.  He 
had  studied  painting  together  with  Pietro  Perugino  and  Leonardo 
da  Vinci,  and  proved  himself  worthy  to  have  been  their  companion. 
"  Lorenzo  was  very  earnest  in  the  sect  of  Fra  Girolamo  of  Ferrara, 
(Savonarola,)  and  lived  continually  as  an  honest  man  and  one  of 
good  life,  making  loving  use  of  courtesy  wherever  he  had  the  oppor- 
tunity." He  was  an  excellent  artist,  of  tender  feelings  and  graceful 
expressions.  His  last  years  were  spent  in  retirement,  to  which,  it 
is  supposed,  he  was  inclined  by  sorrows  for  his  friend  Savona- 
rola. 

Sandro  Botticelli,  both  a  painter  and  an  engraver,  died  in  1515,  at 
the  age  of  seventy-eight.  His  long  life  was  filled  by  industry  and 
cheerfulness.     His  chief  works  in  painting  were  executed  at  Rome, 


200  REFORMS    OF    SAVONAROLA. 

where  he  was  employed  by  Pope  Sixtus  IV.  to  decorate  the  newly 
built  chapel,  which  Michelagnolo  afterwards  glorified.  In  engrav- 
ing, then  an  awkward  art,  Botticelli's  best  labor  was  spent  upon 
"  the  Triumph  of  Faiih  by  Fra  Girolamo  Savonarola,  to  whose  party 
he  was  so  devoted,  that  it  was  the  cause  of  his  abandoning  his  art, 
.  .  .  wherefore  at  last  he  became  old  and  poor." 

There  were  other  artists  whose  names  are  connected  with  Savo- 
narola's. One  was  the  architect  Cronaca,  who  had  been  occupied 
in  the  reformer's  best  days  with  works  in  the  palace  of  the  Floren- 
tine Signoria,  and  who,  when  his  works  and  his  friend's  reforms 
were  ended,  had  still  "  such  a  frenzy  for  Savonarola's  affairs,  that 
he  would  talk  of  nothing  else  than  those."  Fra  Benedetto,  a  minia- 
ture painter,  was  one  of  Savonarola's  brethren  in  St.  Mark's.  He 
was  bold  in  heart,  and  devoted  to  his  "  father  Girolamo."  That  sad 
night,  when  the  convent  and  the  church  were  assailed,  Fra  Benedetto 
armed  himself  and  would  have  made  valiant  defence,  had  he  not 
been  forbidden  by  Savonarola.  And  when,  a  little  later,  the  prior 
was  leaving  most  of  his  brethren  in  tears,  this  one  would  have  gone 
with  him,  pressing  on,  though  thrust  back  by  the  officers,  until  father 
Girolamo  turned  to  him  and  said  :  "  Come  not,  brother,  for  I  am  to 
die." 

There  is  no  account  needed  here  of  Fra  Bartolommeo.  But  for 
him,  as  for  these  other  artists,  Vasari's  Lives  may  be  consulted 
agreeably.  It  is  from  Vasari  that  most  of  the  quotations  in  this 
note  have  been  made. 


THE  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 


1520-1522. 


Voz  es  de  tus  vasallos,  que  de  serlo 
Testimonio  jamas  dieroa  inas  claro, 
Que  quando  mas  traydores  te  parecen. 

Vicente  Garcia  de  la  Huerta.    {La  RaquelJ] 


Attempts  to  advance  the  cause  of  freedom  by  the  sword  are  incal- 
culably perilous.  —  Arnold.  {App.  I.  to  Thuajdides.] 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 


I. 


Castile,  Old  and  New,  was  the  largest  of  the 
Spanish  kingdoms  united  by  the  monarchy  of 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  It  was  the  Coro  y  Cas- 
tilla,  the  core  and  citadel  of  Spain.  High  moun- 
tain-ranges run  their  sentinel-lines  through  north 
and  south,  through  east  and  west,  dividing  valleys 
of  romantic  beauty  from  wide  table-lands  of  deso- 
late ugliness.  The  soil,  although  covering  treas- 
ures, is  hardly  cultivated ;  the  country  is  almost 
abandoned  by  men  and  beasts ;  the  towns  are 
distant  from  each  other,  and  communication  is 
difficult  and  insecure.  Spain's  great  rivers  are 
here  only  narrow  streams,  flowing  in  channels  of 
separation  rather  than  of  union.  It  looks  like  a 
sluggish  region,  where  the  dingy  olive-tree  might 
grow  in  peace ;  yet  it  is  swept  by  winds  well  nigh 
wild  enough  to  move  the  mountains  themselves, 
withering  the  ground's  strength,  and  making  even 


204  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

man's  life  tempestuous.  Castile  is  just  as  it  al- 
ways has  been,  geographically,  the  country  of  a 
divided,  a  backward,  and  a  passionate  people. 
The  unity  which  has  actually  belonged  to  Cas- 
tilians  is  wholly  historical,  that  is,  wholly  acci- 
dental to  their  broken  land.  The  early  history 
and  character  of  the  Castilian  race  have  united 
it  through  all  time.  The  language  they  spoke 
has  become  the  only  common  language  of  Spain. 
Their  blood  is  the  oldest  and  purest  in  Spanish 
veins,  and  they  have  been  the  bloom  of  the  Span- 
ish nation,  (robur  Hispanise.)  Their  strangely 
compounded  laws  (of  Roman,  Gothic,  Ecclesiasti- 
cal, and  purely  Spanish  elements,)  have  gained  the 
mastery  in  Spain,  and  have  almost  forced  its 
people  to  be  grave  and  indolent.  The  excellence 
of  the  Castilian  stock,  viejo  y  raiicio,  ancient  and 
rank  as  it  is,  springs  from  its  independence  of  life, 
blossoming  through  centuries  of  confusion  and 
bigotry  and  blood. 

We  must  go  back  to  its  very  origin,  and  watch 
the  sowing  of  the  seeds,  although  it  be  but  a 
blighted  harvest  that  we  are  afterwards  to  find  in 
the  War  of  the  Castilian  Communities  in  the  six- 
teenth century. 

It  was  so  far  back  as  the  early  years  of  the 
eighth  century,  when  the  cloud,  arisen  out  of  the 
East,  "  like  a  man's  hand,"  was  throwing  broad 
shadows  and  dark  all  over  Europe,  that  the  storm 
of  Saracen  invasion  burst  upon  Spain.     Reft  of 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  205 

lands  and  subjects,  vainly  defended  and  hastily 
abandoned,  tlie  old  Gothic  monarchy  of  the  Pe- 
ninsula crumbled  and  fell.  Some  there  were,  few 
in  number  but  brave  in  soul,  who  escaped  beyond 
the  northern  mountains,  content  to  bear  long 
years  of  toil  and  peril,  so  that  they  might  still 
have  a  Christian  king,  and  still  tread  upon  their 
fathers'  soil.  To  those  Gothic  warriors,  heart- 
whole  in  the  midst  of  change  and  ruin,  Spain 
owes  all  that  she  has  now,  all  that  she  has  had  in 
other  years.  They  were  brave  and  free  and  pious 
men.  The  new-born  kingdom  of  Oviedo,  which 
they  established  amongst  their  mountains,  grew 
into  vigorous  youth.  Its  people  were  a  united  and 
an  independent  people,  acknowledging  no  other 
authority  than  that  of  warrior-nobles  and  warrior- 
kings.  When  they  had  armed  themselves  anew 
with  strong  hopes  and  abundant  energies,  they 
drew  their  swords  again,  and  called  upon  their 
chief  to  lead  them  down  upon  the  far-stretching 
plains  which  were  still  in  the  keeping  of  the 
stranger  Moors.  The  course  of  mountain-stream, 

"  In  strength,  in  speed,  in  fury,  and  in  joy," 

is  not  swifter  nor  surer  than  the  course  of  those 
mountain  heroes.  As  far  as  to  the  Ocean  on  the 
West,  and  to  the  Ebro  on  the  East,  were  borne  the 
Christian  banners,  and  the  kingdom  of  Oviedo  was 
increased  to  the  large  kingdom  of  Leon.  Freedom 
found  "  wings  on  every  wind  "  of  memory  and  of 
hope.  The  old  Spaniard's  chief  principle,  from 
which  he  never  departed  in  love,  warfare,  or  de- 


206  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

votion,  was  to  maintain  his  personal  dignity  un- 
blemished. The  higher  classes  were  cavaliers, 
the  lower  classes  were  foot-soldiers,  —  this  was  the 
great  difference  between  them^  —  and,  where  all 
armed  for  the  same  cause  and  fought  in  the  same 
fight,  it  was  impossible  that  any  should  be  slaves. 
A  town,  newly  conquered  from  the  Saracens,  had 
need  of  free  citizens,  because  its  inhabitants  were 
its  only  defenders.  Each  one  of  the  cities  chose 
its  own  magistrates,  and  governed  its  own  neigh- 
borhood generally,  according  to  forms  which  were 
descended  to  them  from  the  time  of  the  Roman 
dominion.  The  liberty,  which  had  sprung  up 
in  the  mountains  of  Oviedo  descended  upon  the 
plains  of  Castile.  It  was  not  everywhere  wel- 
comed with  the  same  loyalty  of  soul.  It  was 
delayed  by  want  of  spirit,  and  broken  by  want 
of  union,  but  was  still  there,  in  Castile,  and 
while  it  remained,  there  was  hope  unfailing.  The 
presence  of  such  enemies  as  the  Saracens  was  the 
best  of  all  helps  to  Spanish  freedom.  The  kings 
who  were  most  successful  in  warfare  were  most 
benevolent  in  legislation,  although  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, that  in  this  they  were  not  more  moved  by 
kingly  generosity  towards  a  gallant  people  than 
by  urdvingly  fear  of  a  restless  enemy,  or,  often, 
of  their  own  boisterous  nobility.  But  the  people 
were  safe  as  long  as  they  were  free,  and  the  days 
of  their  freedom  were  the  days  of  their  glory. 

The  hbcrtics  of  Castile  existed  not  only  in  the 
Communities,  or  Cities,  but  in  the  Cortes,  or  Con- 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  207 

gress  of  the  kingdom.  The  Cortes  was  originally 
composed  of  nobles  and  prelates  only,  but  as  the 
wealth  and  importance  of  the  communities  in- 
creased, their  deputies  were  also  summoned  to 
minister  to  the  necessities  of  the  crown,  (1215). 
The  story  of  the  Castilian  kings  is  a  strange  con- 
fusion of  romantic  adventure  and  unromantic 
beggary.  The  simple  truth  about  the  Cortes  is, 
that  the  deputies  of  the  Communities  were  called 
to  it,  because  King  Alonzo  XI.  was  in  sore  strait 
for  money,  which  none  of  his  lords,  state-lords  or 
church-lords,  in  the  Cortes,  would  give  him.  It 
was  full  half  a  century  before  anything  was  heard 
of  the  English  commons,  and  such  representative 
liberty  in  Castile  was,  of  course,  very  feeble  and 
very  awkward.  The  deputies  of  the  cities  were 
chosen  by  the  magistrates,  and  not  by  the  people, 
of  which  the  lower  orders  had  no  sort  of  voice  or 
influence  in  the  matter.  Not  many  cities  sent  any 
deputies  at  all  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  but  at  that  period,  nobles  and  priests  had 
left  the  field  in  the  Cortes  clear  to  the  citizens, 
who  were  alone  represented.  The  pretensions  of 
those  worthy  creatures,  the  citizens,  are  not  to  be 
mistaken  for  their  powers.  They  could  do  little 
more  than  vote  petitions  very  willingly  and  sup- 
plies very  unwillingly  to  their  kings.*  They 
maintained  their  right  to  approve  and  even  to  re- 

*  "  Te  dare  dinero  si  me  das  las  leyes  que  necesita  el  reino."  This 
was  a  sort  of  contract  between  the  Cortes  and  the  Crown. 


208  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

ject  the  royal  laws,  yet,  in  spite  of  their  proud  de- 
claration that  "  no  law  could  be  made  or  renewed 
but  by  the  Cortes,"  the  Castilian  kings  were  mas- 
ters of  their  own  legislation.*  On  the  other  hand, 
the  Cortes  were  always  concerned  in  the  most 
important  interests  of  government,  and  bore  them- 
selves through  trials  and  watches  like  trusty  senti- 
nels, with  courage  and  fidelity.  Their  assemblings, 
from  time  to  time,  are  good  land-marks  upon  the 
expanse  of  Castilian  history. 

The  earliest  hostility  to  the  steadily  increasing 
freedom  of  Castile,  came  from  the  nobles.  Their 
ambition  was  beyond  the  king's  control,  much 
before  their  profligacy  grew  to  be  beyond  the  peo- 
ple's endurance.  The  petitions  of  the  Cortes  to 
the  crown  were  crowded  with  complaints  against 
the  nobility,  who  were  often 

"  bloody, 
Luxurious,  avaricious,  false,  deceitful, 
Sudden,  malicious,  smacking  of  every  sin 
That  has  a  name." 

They  were  the  Ricos  Homhrcs^  the  Rich  Men, 
and  Castile  was  long  as  much  at  their  mercy  as  if 
they  had  bought  both  king  and  kingdom.  The 
people  were  obliged  to  defend  themselves,  and,  for 
self-protection's  sake,  joined  together  through  their 
cities  in  Ilermandades  or  Brotherhoods,  which 
often  resisted  and  sometimes  revenged  the  cruelties 


*  "  Donde  quieren  reyes,  ahi  van  leyes,"  as  kings  like,  so  laws  go, 
is,  and  has  been,  a  true  Spanish  saying. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  209 

done  to  the  common  citizens  by  the  nobles,  mnch 
too  powerful  to  be  dealt  with  singly.  These  con- 
federacies were  wisely  and  warmly  encouraged 
by  the  crown,  and  the  great  principle  of  union 
was  gained  for  the  people.  Isabella,  of  still-loved 
memory,  placed  herself  at  the  head  of  a  Brother- 
hood, formed  in  the  early  part  of  her  reign,  with 
the  object  of  restoring  peace  and  prosperity  to  her 
desolate  and  di^aded  kingdom.  At  her  bidding, 
and  by  the  energetic  action  of  the  Communities, 
the  nobles  were  obliged  to  yield  their  claims  to 
privileges   unprincipled   and  uncontrolled. 

The  strength  of  aristocracy  declined,  and  the 
strength  of  royalty  increased  apace.  The  old  ele- 
ments of  feudality  began  to  break  asunder,  and 
from  their  ruins  were  built  up  the  strongholds  of 
central,  national,  royal  power.  This  was  a  real 
want  of  society  in  the  fifteenth  century,  in  a  time 
full  of  vicissitudes  and  creations,  when  bold  ener- 
gies needed  strong  supports.  The  Dark  Ages  were 
ended  in  the  light  and  hope  just  given  to  men,  and 
the  first  reports  of  the  newly  invented  artillery  of 
Europe,  were  like  salutes  to  the  coming  destinies 
of  mankind.  The  grave  of  ancient  Learning  was 
opened,  and  the  miracle  of  its  resurrection  begun. 
All  the  interests  of  every-day  industry  were  en- 
larged by  adventures  beyond  the  seas.  Kings 
upon  their  thrones  caught  the  far-reaching  enthu- 
siasm, and  stretched  out  their  sceptres  to  mark 
their  own  lion's-shares.      All  they  claimed,  and 

14 


210  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

more,  was  yielded  to  them.  Monarchy  was 
strengthened  and  extended  in  principle,  perhaps 
that  one  anchor,  at  least,  might  hold  in  this  flood- 
tide  of  human  fortunes.  As  it  happened  through- 
out Europe,  so  it  happened  in  Spain,  that  royal 
power  rose  far  above  all  other  power.  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella  were  upon  the  throne,  and  in  them 
their  people  trusted.  But  the  Communities  were 
restless,  and  began  to  fear  that  their  independence 
was  threatened  with  greater  dangers  than  the  old 
nobles  had  ever  brought  upon  them.  However 
reasonable  such  fears  were,  it  was  an  ill-omened 
time  for  confederacies  or  rebellions. 

The  war  of  the  Communities  broke  out  sixteen 
years  after  Isabella's  death.  While  she  lived  to 
govern  her  people  and  her  husband  Ferdinand, 
all  was  well  with  Spain.  The  devotion,  which 
bore  the  Catholic  standard  to  the  Alhambra 
tov/ers,  was  equally  earnest  in  making  the  Catho- 
lic kingdom  worthy  of  its  increasing  dominion. 
The  nobles  were  subdued,  the  people  were  pro- 
tected and  the  national  interests  were  joined 
together  in  one.  Spain  discovered  to  her  amaze- 
ment that  she  had  a  government  which  her  people 
might  obey  without  losing  pride  or  independence. 
Then  (1504,)  Isabella  died,  and  left  empty  a 
throne  that  has  never  yet  been  filled  as  in  her 
memorable  reign.  Ferdinand,  escaped  from  her 
control,  could  not  escape  the  influences  she  had 
spread  about  him,  and,  awhile,  pursued  the  same 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  211 

objects  which  her  hopes  had  made  holy  to  Spain. 
But  he  was  selfish  and  insincere  in  the  exercise  of 
his  power,  and,  not  content  with  triumphs  gained 
over  the  nobility,  he  began  to  covet  the  already 
diminished  privileges  of  the  people.  Ferdinand 
was  faithless  to  the  great  purposes  of  monarchy. 
He  established  its  might,  but  he  could  not  establish 
its  right,  by  thinking  that  Spain  was  made  for  him 
and  not  he  for  Spain.  The  liberties  of  his  people 
were  in  real  danger  from  the  authority  of  superior 
and  arbitrary  laws.  Philip  Second,  who  reigned 
fifty  years  later,  once  told  his  son  that  he  owed  all 
his  power  to  Ferdinand,  but  the  gift  of  such  des- 
potism did  not  deserve  his  gratitude.  Ferdinand 
died,  twelve  years  after  Isabella,  leaving  the  throne 
of  Spain  to  their  grandson  Charles,  (1.516.)  We 
must  briefly  follow  the  first  years  of  his  reign. 


II. 

Charles  the  First  —  better  known  to  us  as 
Charles  the  Fifth  Emperor  of  Germany, —  was  the 
grandson  of  Austrian  Maximilian,  on  the  side  of 
his  father.  Archduke  Philip,  that  son-ni-law  whom 
Isabella  could  not  love.  In  whatever  Charles  was 
unlike  to  his  father  and  grandfathers,  one  passion 
he  inherited  from  them  all,  the  passion  of  absolute 
power.     His  grave  and  obstinate  demeanor  was 


212  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

the  outward  expression  of  a  haughty  and  resolute 
soul.  With  all  his  self-will,  he  possessed  great 
and  attractive  accomplishments,  and  might  easily 
have  made  himself  loved,  instead  of  making  him- 
self feared.  He  was  a  boy,  only  sixteen  years 
old,  when  the  throne  of  Spain  fell  to  his  inheri- 
tance, but  he  had  been  born  and  bred  in  distant 
Flanders,  and  neither  spoke  the  language,  nor  felt 
the  associations,  nor  comprehended  the  rights, 
which  belonged  to  his  stranger  people.  Cold  as 
was  its  light  to  them,  his  rising  star  was  followed 
by  eyes,  that  would  never  have  wearied  of  watch- 
ing, and  hearts,  that  Avould  never  have  ceased 
from  loving,  had  it  not  been  hid  from  them  at 
last,  by  fast-gathering  wrongs. 

So  soon  as  Charles  heard,  at  Brussels,  of  Ferdi- 
nand's death,  he  declared  himself  king,  without 
either  awaiting  the  proclamation  of  the  Cortes,  a 
right  his  people  valued,  or  regarding  the  honor 
which  belonged  to  the  name,  at  least,  of  his  poor 
mother,  Joanna,  whom  the  Castilians  looked  upon 
as  their  queen,  the  daughter  of  their  dearly  remem- 
bered Isabella.*  The  young  king  meant  to  make 
his  authority  clear,  from  the  beginning,  but  he  also 
made  it,  as  he  did  not  mean  to  do,  usurping  and 
suspected.    He  seized  upon  the  work,  begun  before 

*  Joanna  was  in  Tordesillas,  a  Caslilian  city,  watching,  as  she  had 
done  for  the  last  ten  years,  hy  thecofUn  of  her  handsome  husliand,the 
Archduke  Philip.  He  had  never  loved  her,  but  she  worshipped  him, 
and  his  death  bereft  her  of  lier  senses. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  213 

him,  of  tearing  down  all  other  images  than  those  of 
his  own  royalty.  Ferdinand  had  appointed  Cardi- 
nal Ximenes,  already  called  a  third  sovereign  [ter- 
tius  rex,]  to  the  regency  of  Spain.  Him  Charles 
acknowledged,  but  in  association  with  a  regent  of 
his  own  appointment,  Cardinal  Adrian  of  Utrecht, 
who  had  been  a  very  good  preceptor  to  the  young 
prince,  but  who  proved  an  utterly  incapable  min- 
ister to  the  young  king.  Ximenes  claimed  and 
exercised  superior  authority.  His  regency  was 
successful  in  strengthening  the  outward  supports 
of  his  master's  throne,  but  his  imperious  commands 
kindled  many  heart-burnings  in  Castile,  and  Spain 
was,  throughout,  a  troubled  country,  Avhen  the 
stranger-king  landed  upon  its  shores.  The  Cas- 
tilians  were  not  a  people  to  be  trifled  with,  even 
by  Cardinal  Ximenes.  The  old  passion  for  inde- 
pendence was  fresh  yet  in  their  souls.  What  the 
Community  of  Yalladolid  wrote  to  Charles  when 
he  was  still  in  Brussels,  was  what  all  Spain  would 
have  repeated:  "  We  recall  to  your  remembrance 
the  noble  things  which  belong  to  your  kingdom,  — 
the  grandees  who  shall  bear  your  orders, — the 
people  full  of  spirit  and  valor,  — the  land  so  strong 
and  so  abundant,  that  while  all  have  need  of  it,  it 
hath  need  of  none, — and  how,  while  other  nations 
supplied  Rome  with  food,  Spain  gave  her  Empe- 
rors." 

Charles  was  impatient  to  take  possession  of  this 
strong  and  abundant  land,  and  soon  sailed  away 


214         WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

from  Flanders.  On  the  13th  of  September,  1.517, 
the  year  after  Ferdinand's  death,  the  young  king 
of  Castile  and  of  Leon  landed  at  Villaviciosa,  on 
the  northern  coast  of  his  kingdom,  amid  acclama- 
tions warm  from  the  lips,  at  least,  of  his  subjects, 
who  had  looked  for  him  "with  open  arms  and 
beating  hearts."  The  Castilians  had  "  no  other 
desire,"  says  Peter  Martyr,  "  than  to  obey  its 
King,  if  its  King  would  but  rightly  govern  them. 
.  .  .  Yet  even  the  laziest  horses,"  he  continues, 
"if  vexed  with  spurs,  will  turn  their  heels  against 
their  master,  and  I  know  not  the  people  to  whom 
the  like  would  happen  sooner  than  to  the  Span- 
iards."* His  first  act  was  to  break  the  heart  of 
his  and  his  father's  faithful  servant  Ximenes,  by 
refusing  to  see  him.  His  next  was  to  send  away 
his  own  brother,  the  Infant  Ferdinand,  to  the 
German  court  of  his  grandfather  Maximilian. 
Ferdinand  was  the  idol  of  the  people  among 
whom  he  had  been  born  and  educated.     It  was 


*  Peter  Martyr,  Opus  Epistolarium.  Ep.  567,  563.  The  predic- 
tion (written  in  May,  1516,)  is  remarkable:  "Audita  Principis  natura, 
diligitur,  observatur,  desideratur  ore  aperto.  Legum  perversio  amo- 
rem  soiet  in  odium  convertere.  Veniat  avita  secuturus  vestigia  et 
felices  gustabit  successus:  si  diverierit,  Hispanorum  animos  elatos, 
licet  nunc,  ob  partam  et  longo  tempore  a  Calholicis  ejus  maternis 
avis  nulrilam  paeem,  dormiant,  expergefaciet  in  aliquem  errorem, 
quod  Dcus  avcrtai."  lb.  Ep.  568.  Peter  Martyr  was  not  only  a 
shrewd  but  generally  a  disinterested  observer  of  things  in  Spain. 
His  account  of  events  in  the  war  of  1520-  1522  is  against  the  Com- 
moners, hut  he  had  basked  too  long  in  the  sunshine  of  the  Spanish 
court,  to  be  much  inclined  to  favor  any  sort  of  ])opular  sedition. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.         215 

something  more  than  boyish  jealousy  which  in- 
duced his  brother  to  dismiss  him  from  the  king- 
dom, and  yet  it  was  well  for  Ferdinand  that  he 
escaped  the  temptation  of  taking  part  in  the  near- 
approaching  war.  But  the  rejection  of  the  old 
minister  and  the  exile  of  the  young  prince  were 
evil  omens  to  Spain.  Others  followed  with  the 
fast-succeeding  difficulties  that  came  between  the 
people  and  their  king. 

More  than  anything  else  Charles  needed  reve- 
nues, not  only  for  himself  but  for  the  Flemings, 
who  came  with  him  in  greedy  swarms,  preying 
upon  the  Spaniards,  it  was  said,  as  the  Spaniards 
preyed  upon  the  Indians  of  America.  Within 
the  first  year  of  their  appearance  in  Spain,  besides 
all  they  devoured  at  once,  they  sent  home  to  con- 
sume at  more  leisure  the  positive  sum  of  eleven 
hundred  thousand  ducats,  or  nearly  ten  millions 
of  our  dollars.*  Foremost  among  them  all,  was 
Guillaume  de  Croy,  the  lord  of  Chievres,  who 
had  been  the  king's  governor  in  Flanders,  and 
was  now  his  chief  minister  in  Spain.  This  man, 
threescore  years  old,  digested  gold,  the  Spaniards 
said,  as  rapidly  as  an  ostrich  makes  way  with 
iron.  He  was  called  the  "bottomless  abyss,"  the 
"steersman  whom  no  pay  could  satisfy."  and  was 

*  Peter  Martyr's  lamentations  are  always  quaint: "Quo  magisillis 
guttura  replet,  eolatius  ipsi  gutlura  pandunt."  [Ep.  631.)  Or:  "  Gla- 
cialis  Oceani  accolEe  ditabuntur,  vestra  expilahilur  Casiella."  {Ep. 
606.) 


216  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

everywhere  the  object  of  most  especial  hatred,  not 
only  because  he  was  filling  himself  with  plunder, 
but  more  because  he  offended  the  pride  of  a  loyal 
people  by  governing  their  own  king.*  One  of 
Charles's  most  devout  historians,  Sandoval,  ac- 
knowledges that  the  king  began  to  be  abhorred 
and  even  to  be  regarded  as  wanting  understand- 
ing, so  darkly  was  he  seen  through  crowds  of 
stranger  courtiers.  All  the  highest  offices  of  church 
and  state  were  flung  at  the  feet  of  Flemings, 
and  those  they  would  not  stoop  to  take,  were  not 
given,  but  sold  to  native  Spaniards.  "And  they 
begin  to  murmur,"  writes  one  of  the  old  chroni- 
clers, "  saying  that  the  king  no  longer  signs  and 
the  council  no  longer  decides  anything,  —  that 
bishops  leave  their  sees  and  secretaries  plunder 
their  offices,  —  that  magistrates  take  bribes,  no- 
bles run  to  riot,  and  women  forget  their  virtues." 
Words,  direct  as  these,  shape  themselves  into  a 
sad  picture  of  evil  times.  The  hatred  against 
the  strangers  was  really  a  principal  cause  of  the 
war  which  followed  close  upon  their  departure 
from  Spain.  They  had  snatched,  "  these  Flemish 
gluttons,"  they  had  "  snatched  Spanish  bread  from 
Spanish  jaws,"  and  had  treated  Spaniards  them- 
selves, as  though  "  these  last  had  been  born  in 
their  sewers."     No  wonder,  then,    that  such  as 


*"  Don  Carlos  es  Rey  se§un  derecho,  y  Monsieur  deXcvresde 
hecho,"  (Sandoval)  ;  Charles  was  king  liy  right,  bulChievres  was 
king  in  deed.    "  Regitur,  non  regit,"  says  Peter  Martyr. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  217 

the  Castilians  were  tormented  by  such  as  the 
Flemings. 

The  Cortes,  which  were  held,  both  in  Castile 
and  Aragon,  to  acknowledge  Charles's  succession 
to  the  crown,  made  some  vain  efforts  to  preserve 
the  loyalty  and  the  peace  of  his  kingdoms.*  But 
Charles  was  already  in  full  pursuit  of  the  imperial 
crown  of  Germany,  in  whose  comparison  the 
crown  of  Spain  seemed  but  a  bauble.  He  won 
his  election,  and  welcomed  its  news  with  magni- 
ficent festivals  at  Barcelona.  It  brought  no  joy 
to  Spain  that  her  king  had  become  the  Emperor 
of  Germany,  and  when  this  king  or  emperor  ask- 
ed the  Spanish  people  for  fresh  supplies  of  money 
to  pay  for  a  journey  and  a  coronation  with  which 
they  had  no  concern,  they  lost  their  patience  and 
determined  to  yield  no  more. 

Toledo,  once  the  capital  of  the  Goths,  and,  long 
afterwards,  the  capital  of  Spain,  deserved  the 
name,  which  king  Alonzo  gave  it,  of  Imperial.  It 
was  a  great  and  noble  city,  numbering  nearly  two 
hundred  thousand  inhabitants  at  the  period  of 
the  Commoners'  War.  Built  upon  seven  hills,  or 
rather  seven  rocks,  it  stood  high  above  the  country 
round,  "  the  crown  of  Spain."  Within  its  walls 
lived  nobles,  priests  and  citizens,  proud  of  their 

*  One  phrase,  that  the  Castilians  introduced  into  their  petition,  is 
to  be  recorded  :  "Acuerdese  V.  M.  que  un  Rey  es  mercenario  de  sus 
suLdiios  ;  "  your  Majesty  must  remember,  that  a  king  is  in  the  pay 
of  his  subjects. 


218  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

home  and  their  distinction  as  Toledans.  The 
great  cathedral,  a  city  in  itself,  believed  to  have 
been  built  to  the  Virgin,  while  she  was  yet  alive, 
and  to  be  still  the  scene  of  her  earthly  visitings, 
belonged  to  the  Toledan  archbishopric,  the  see 
which  Cardinal  Ximenes  had  possessed,  the  richest 
see  in  the  Catholic  world.  In  church  and  in  state, 
Toledo  was  preeminent  among  Spanish  cities,  and 
from  out  her  community  came  the  first  outbreak 
of  rebellion  against  the  evil  government  of  King 
Charles.  An  embassy  of  Toledan  citizens  was 
sent  to  meet  Charles  at  Barcelona.  He  gave 
them  audience,  and  listened  with  unwonted  gra- 
ciousness  to  a  bold  and  tedious  harangue  from  one 
of  the  Deputies,  Don  Gonzalo  Gaetan,  but  made 
no  other  reply  than  by  repeating  fair  promises 
which  had  already  been  given,  and  already  bro- 
ken, to  his  people.  Gonzalo  Gaetan's  return  to 
Toledo,  with  no  better  account  of  his  mission,  was 
followed  by  strange  commotions.  The  city-coun- 
cillors drew  their  daggers  against  each  other,  and 
the  citizens  were  all  divided  among  themselves, 
according  to  their  submission  or  their  indepen- 
dence. Toledo  appealed  to  her  sister  communi- 
ties, that  "  they  must  beseech  his  Majesty  to  re- 
main with  them  in  Spain."  Neither  then,  nor  in 
the  troubled  times  which  followed,  would  the 
Castilians,  generally,  renounce  their  allegiance  to 
their  sovereign.  The  war  they  made  was  against 
his   ministers,   and  not  against  him,  against  the 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  219 

errors  of  his  authority,  and  not  against  his  au- 
thority itself.  Even  Sandoval,  royal  historian, 
allows  that  what  they  did,  was  mostly  done 
"  with  much  respect  to  the  king  and  in  the  fear  of 
God." 

Charles  went  from  Barcelona  to  Valladolid, 
the  chief  city  of  Leon,  at  that  time  the  court 
residence  of  the  Spanish  sovereigns,  and,  through 
its  great  university,  the  source  of  jurisprudence 
to  all  Spain.  The  king  asked,  supplies  of  the 
city  magistrates,  but  they  were  almost  flatly  re- 
fused. Not  concealing  his  displeasure,  he  pre- 
pared his  departure  from  so  vexatious  a  city,  and 
was  setting  out  on  his  way  towards  the  north, 
when  suddenly  the  great  bell  rang,  and  six  thous- 
and of  the  citizens  assembled  in  arms  to  keep 
their  king  amongst  them.  They  would  have 
slain  Chievres,  perhaps,  and  his  Flemings  before 
Charles's  very  eyes  ;  but  king  and  courtiers  took 
to  horse,  forced  their  way  through  the  gates,  and 
rode,  in  a  dark  and  rainy  night,  to  Tordesillas. 
The  next  day  but  one,  they  pushed  on  to  Santi- 
ago, in  Galicia,  where  the  Cortes  were  summoned 
to  meet  the  king  and  fill  a  full  measure  of  ducats 
for  his  voyage  to  Germany. 

There  is  an  old  Spanish  proverb  that  to  pro- 
voke the  weary  or  the  hungry  is  to  provoke 
Barabbas.  The  Castilians  were  both  weary  and 
hungry,  and  it  had  been  wiser  for  their  king  to  let 
them  alone.     If  money  v/ere  positively  wanted, 


220 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 


the  place  to  ask  for  it  was  surely  Castile  itself, 
and  not  a  city  of  Galicia,  which  appeared  to  Cas- 
tilians  as  remote  as  though  it  were  a  city  of 
Germany.  But  Charles  seemed  bent  on  throwing 
stones  into  troubled  waters,  and  watching  the 
swell  of  wrath  and  danger.  Every  fresh  demand 
aroused  some  new  spirit  of  strife.  The  people  were 
growing  bolder  and  more  turbulent.  Even  the 
Spanish  clergy  began  to  be  seditious,  and  denied 
the  king  a  subsidy  which  had  been  granted  him 
by  Pope  Leo.  Still  Charles  looked  upon  his  own 
power  as  irresistible.  He  was  not  only  King  of 
Spain  and  Emperor  of  Germany,  but  all  the  south 
of  Italy,  all  the  large  territories  of  his  Austrian 
House,  and  all  the  vast  empires,  which  Cortes  and 
Balboa*  were  opening  to  him  in  the  New  World  ; 
all  these  were  his,  and  he  could  not  fear  the 
single  insurrection  of  Castile.  Insurrection  was 
unnatural  to  the  character  of  his  age.  The  Com- 
moners' War  never  became  a  national  enterprise, 
and  other  seditions  springing  from  narrow  sources, 
at  the  same  time,  in  Valencia  and  Aragon,  were 
never  even  joined  to  those  in  Castile.  The  thirst 
of  Spaniards  for  adventure  or  for  war  might  have 
been  slaked  in  many  another  country  than  Spain, 
and  they  began  too  soon  to  waste  each  other's 
blood  at  home. 

*  Pizarro's  great  enterprise  was  not  yet  begun. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  221 


III. 


"  From  cast  to  west 
A  groan  of  accusation  pierces  Heaven,"  — 

and  we  must  give  some  heed  to  voices  which  rise 
above  common  murmurs.  Hernando  de  Avalos, 
one  of  Toledo's  principal  magistrates,  was  also  one 
of  her  most  active  defenders.  Born  of  honorable 
lineage  and  now  well-advanced  in  years,  he  was 
among  the  earliest  to  embrace  and  among  the  last 
to  abandon  the  cause  of  the  Communities.  He 
was  a  passionate,  but  a  steadfast  Commoner.  Pe- 
dro Laso  de  la  Vega,  son  to  one  of  the  great  state- 
officers  of  Leon,  is  described  by  the  loyal  chroni- 
clers of  the  time,  as  the  most  capable  person 
among  those  who  took  the  people's  part  in  this 
bitter  war.  He  was  braver  in  its  beginning  than 
at  its  end,  and,  in  spite  of  his  high  birth,  was  far 
from  being  high-minded.  A  stouter  champion 
than  he,  was  Antonio  de  Acuna,  Bishop  of  Za- 
mora.  This  "  seditious  prelate,"  as  his  enemies 
were  wont  to  call  him,  who,  many  years  before, 
had  kept  possession  of  his  diocese  against  King 
Ferdinand's  orders,  now  came  forth  in  his  old 
age,  to  fight  at  the  side  of  the  Commoners.  He 
was  restless  and  ambitious,  but  his  zeal  seems  to 
have  been   sincere,  and  he  sometimes  used  his 


222  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

influence  for  mercy's  as  well  as  for  honor's  sake.* 
His  house  became  the  resort  of  all  the  popular 
leaders,  and  it  was  his  own  servant's  story  that, 
"none  there  thought  of  praying,  but  all  were 
learning  the  use  of  their  new  weapons."  Bishop 
Antonio  armed  and  commanded  a  regiment  of  four 
hundred  priests,  whom  he  was  fond  of  exhorting 
to  fight  bravely,  or,  if  worst  came  to  the  worst, 
to  die  resolutely  in  "  so  just  an  enterprise."  The 
bishop,  as  they  said  at  the  time,  was  "more  of  a 
Roland  than  a  priest,"  yet  he  did  not,  we  will 
hope,  always  forget  the  milder  duties  of  a  Chris- 
tian service.  Among  all  the  Commoner  chiefs, 
the  first  in  rank  was  Pedro  de  Giron,  a  son  of  the 
great  Count  de  Urena.f  But  the  part  he  took  in 
the  war  was  for  "  passion,  not  patriotism,"  and 
full  is  the  measure  of  his  shame.  The  names  of 
truer  Commoners  than  he  have  been  branded  with 
hissing-hot  pens,  while  his  has  been  spared.  An- 
tonio de  Guevara,  one  of  Charles  the  Fifth's 
councillors,  confesses  that  "  in  all  this  world's 
histories,  they  who  obey  the  king  are  accounted 
loyal,   and  they  who  rebel  are  always  set  down 


*  It  is  very  hard  for  us  to  understand  this  Bishop  of  Zamora.  All 
sorts  of  ahusive  epithets,  —  seditiosus,  rabidus,  tumulluarius,  cbul- 
liens, —  are  thrown  upon  him,  hut  there  is  no  graver  charge  proved 
against  him  than  his  hearing  arms,  which  was  not  then  an  uncom- 
mon thing  for  a  bishop  to  do. 

+  A  name  one  will  often  meet  in  the  History  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  223 

for  traitors."  The  Commoners  have  been  denied 
credit  for  the  simplest  feeUngs  that  bind  men  to 
their  comitry,  but  the  testimonies  against  them 
are  very  far  from  being  sure.  "And  thus  the 
world  goes,"  said  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena,  "mob, 
robbers,  rebels  or  heroes,  according  to  the  chances 
of  the  strife.  Poor  humanity  !  "  And  poor  Com- 
moners !  fallen,  and  trampled  upon  !  There  is  no 
historian  among  themselves  to  tell  the  story  we 
would  read  more  truly  than  it  has  yet  been  told. 
Nevertheless,  we  will  now  confide  in  the  sincerity, 
with  which  Toledo  wrote  to  her  sister  cities,  that 
"  in  such  a  cause  as  theirs,  danger  is  safety,  exile 
is  glory,  loss  is  gain,  persecution  is  reward,  death 
is  life,  and  these,  being  heroic  deeds,  can  only  be 
attempted  by  lofty  hearts." 

One  "  lofty  heart  "  there  was  in  Toledo  itself, 
that  we  would  believe,  in  defiance  of  all  the 
chroniclers  that  ever  wrote  of  Spain.  It  would 
be  shameful  to  doubt  it,  to  doubt  the  sincerity  of 
Juan  de  Padilla,  the  hero-spirit  of  the  Commoners. 
He  was  the  son  of  the  Grand  Seneschal  of  Castile, 
and  but  thirty  years  old,  when  these  quarrels  be- 
gan between  his  country  and  his  sovereign.  All 
his  family  adhered  to  royalty,  all  save  his  wife,  a 
daughter  of  the  Count  de  Tendilla,  a  woman  of 
noble  birth  and  noble  mind.  Padilla,  sharing  the 
zeal  of  Hernando  de  Avalos,  obeyed  the  generous 
impulses  which  bade  him  side  with  the  weakest 
and  the  wronged,  "  a  noble  youth,"  says   Peter 


224  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

Martyr,   "  yet  the  author  of  all  those  seditions." 

"  And  as  a  lover  hails  the  dawn 
Of  a  first  smile,  so  welcomed  he 
The  sparkle  of  the  first  sword  drawn 
For  vengeance  and  for  liberty." 

Padilla  possessed  every  charm,  both  of  person 
and  accomplishment,  to  win  the  admiration  and 
attachment  of  a  passionate  people.  High-born 
and  graceful,  brave  and  generous,  enthusiastic  and 
gentle,  he  became  the  idol  [numen  suum]  of  his 
brethren  in  arms.  He  was  self-forgetful  in  purpose 
and  unshrinking  in  heart,  yet  he  had  little  of  that 
inner  fire  which  shines  like  light  over  dark  waters, 
and  the  devotion  he  gave  without  measure  to  his 
countrymen,  was  vain  to  them  and  to  him.  We 
shall  have  reason  to  know  how  long  he  was  the  hope 
of  the  cause,  which  he  warmly  espoused  in  its 
spring,  and  to  which  he  fearlessly  pledged  his  faith 
by  death.  It  is  a  delight  to  repeat  the  name  of  such 
an  one  as  Juan  de  Padilla ;  not  that  he  was  im- 
petuous and  valiant,  as  many  men  claim  to  be, 
but  that  he  was  honorable,  faithful,  and  self- 
denying,  as  few  men  in  his  place  could  have  been. 
We  look  back  to  him  in  his  youth's  prime  and 
his  soul's  excellence,  grateful  that  we  know  them 
at  least  in  part,  grateful  that  we  can  do  him  some 
honor,  without  passion  and  without  fear. 

Yet  it  is  here  that  we  would  an  instant  linger 
in  reasonable  sorrow  for  the  errors,  after  which 
the  Commoners  seem  to  have  been  self-destroyed. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  225 

Why  were  such  brave  spirits  broken,  such  high 
hopes  cruslied,  such  honest  Hberties  overthrown  1 
And  the  simple  answer  comes  from  our  own  hearts 
as  well  as  from  Spanish  histories,  that  the  great 
cause  was  but  unworthily  upheld,  and  that  its  great 
claims  would  have  prevailed  in  resolute  peace  far 
better  and  far  sooner  than  in  turbulent  war.* 


IV. 


Returning  to  the  events,  which  immediately 
preceded  the  outbreak  of  war,  we  find  Don  Pedro 
Laso  de  la  Vega  and  other  commissioners  from 
Toledo  admitted  to  reason  with  the  king,  then  on 
his  way  to  meet  the  Cortes  at  Santiago.  Don 
Pedro  claimed  what  all  Spain  most  desired,  that 
the  king's  departure  should  be  at  least  delayed, 
and  that,  if  Castile  must  be  deserted  by  her  sove- 

*  Peter  Martyr,  whose  judgments  or  whose  prejudices  were  quite 
against  the  commoners,  writes  with  reason  :  "  Sonus  quidem  prima- 
rius  horum  motuum  sanus,  ut  leges  Regni  serventur  indemnes  :  sed 
meo  judicio  aberratur  in  processu.  Supplicatu,"  he  adds,  "non  armis 
agendum  esse  crederem  satius."  (Epist.  701.)  He  writes,  again, 
to  the  Chancellor,  with  Charles  :  "  Mi  magne  cancellarie,  ut  veruni 
fateamur,  si  ablata  passione  turhante  rationem,  pensitaverimus  rem, 
non  longe  a  justo  vagatur  in  suis  postulatis  misera  Castella.  Sed 
quid  ?  .  .  facile  est  valicinatu,  seditiones  has  cito  ruituras,  quia  et 
consilio  et  ducihus  carent." — {Epist.  6S6.) 
15 


226  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

reign,  some  share  in  his  government  should  be 
given  to  her  communities.  Old  Pedro's  earnest- 
ness moved  some  of  the  bystanders  to  tears,  but 
the  only  return  it  had  from  Charles,  was  his  tell- 
ing them,  "with  countenance  somewhat  black 
and  severe,"  that,  -'if  it  were  not  remembered 
whose  sons  they  were,  they  should  be  most  griev- 
ously chastised,  even  as  his  royal  council  had 
recommended."  Not  even  yet  despairing,  Don 
Pedro  and  his  companions  followed  the  king  to 
Santiago,  where  the  Cortes,  last  hope  to  them  and 
to  their  countrymen,  was  soon  after  opened,  (April 
1st,  1.520.)  Charles  was  present  among  the  Depu- 
ties, whom  he  was  already  prepared  to  find  noisy 
and  seditious  men.  In  his  name,  the  President 
of  the  Cortes  pronounced  a  lengthy  discourse 
upon  the  necessities  of  the  king  and  the  duties  of 
the  deputies.  It  was  heard  in  patient  silence,  and 
things  were  following  in  usual  course,  when  some 
deputies  from  Salamanca  declared  that  they  would 
never  even  make  the  common  oath  of  fealty  to 
the  crown,  until  justice  was  done  to  their  rightful 
demands.  Their  words  fell  like  sparks  upon 
passionate  hearts.  Pedro  Laso,  who  was  present, 
although  he  was  not  a  properly  chosen  deputy, 
took  fire,  and  cried  out,  that  he  would  be  faithful 
to  his  countrymen  :  "Rather  would  I  lose  my  head 
than  do  injury  to  the  city  or  to  the  kingdom." 
Many  others  followed  these  bold  examples,  and  for 
three  or  four  days  there  was  nothing  but  confusion 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  227 

in  the  Cortes.  It  was  easy  for  Charles  to  banish 
froward  deputies,  and  to  obtain  from  more  sub- 
missive ones  the  moneys  he  required ;  but  every 
act  of  absohite  authority  was  like  opening  a  new 
flame  from  ashes  ready  to  blaze. 

The  first  insurrection  was  in  Toledo,  where 
the  rumor  was  presently  spread  that  its  petitions 
had  been  despised  and  its  deputies  disgraced. 
The  people  were  bitterly  enraged,  the  nobles  were 
indignant,  and  even  the  priests  joined  in  a  re- 
ligious procession,  parading  the  streets  and  chant- 
ing the  prayer  of  the  Catholic  litany  for  the  illu- 
mination of  the  king's  understanding.  Eminent 
above  all  others  there  in  words  and  deeds  were 
Hernando  de  Avalos  and  Juan  de  Padilla;  and 
it  was  not  long  before  an  order  came  from  the 
king,  summoning  Padilla  and  some  other  cavaliers 
to  his  presence  at  Santiago.  But  the  citizens 
would  not  yet  part  with  their  best  helpers,  and  all 
Toledo  began  to  "  roar  like  a  wounded  bull." 
Six  thousand  men  took  arms,  and  with  loud  cries 
of  "  Death  to  the  Flemings  !  .  .  Long  live  Pa- 
dilla," seized  upon  the  cavaliers  named  in  the 
king's  summons,  and  forced  them,  not  unwilling, 
to  swear  that  they  would  not  desert  the  people 
who  loved  them,  for  a  master  who  hated  them. 
The  crowd,  increased  to  twenty  thousand,  pressed 
on  to  the  house  of  the  royal  governor,  whom  they 
found  quite  ready  to  save  himself  by  submission, 
and  then  turned  against  the  Alcazar,  or  citadel, 


228  WAR  OF  THE  COBIMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

which  was  forced,  in  spite  of  resistance  from  some 
Toledan  cavaUers,  who  hked  the  citizens  less  than 
the  king.  Just  at  the  moment  of  triumph,  it  was 
heard  that  Pedro  Laso  was  near  Toledo,  on 
his  way  back  from  the  Cortes,  out  of  which 
Charles  had  dismissed  him.  The  whole  people 
went  forth  to  meet  the  deputy  who  had  borne 
himself  nobly  in  their  name,  and  conducted  him 
with  great  rejoicing  to  his  home.  A  day  or  two 
after,  the  royal  governor  was  driven  out  from  the 
city.  New  magistrates  were  chosen  in  the  name 
of  "  the  King  and  the  Community ;  "  the  red  ban- 
ners of  Toledo  were  hung  upon  her  towers ;  the 
Walls  were  kept  guarded ;  and  within,  the  citizens 
awaited  the  storm,  which  was  sure,  they  thought, 
to  break  upon  them,  from  Santiago. 

The  Cortes  were  already  removed  to  Corunna, 
on  the  coast,  as  if  Charles's  impatience  to  be  gone 
were  increased  by  the  growing  seditions  among 
his  Castilian  subjects.  Once,  he  resolved  to  return 
himself,  to  Toledo,  but  his  Flemish  courtiers, 
gorged  with  plunder,  and  longing  to  put  it  and 
themselves  in  safety,  persuaded  their  master  to 
hasten,  instead  of  delaying  departure.  The  Cortes 
granted  some  supplies  in  great  confusion  and  with 
great  reluctance,  joining  to  their  "Free  Gift,"  as 
they  chose  to  call  it,  a  noble  petition  in  the  name 
of  all  Castile,  to  which  their  khig,  however,  was 
little  likely  to  yield.  The  last  thing  Charles  saw 
fit  to  do  was,  to  provoke  even  his  nobility  by  ap- 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  229 

pointing  to  the  Regency  of  Castile,  poor  old  Car- 
dinal Adrian,  a  good  man,  but  a  stranger,  and  one 
who  covild  never  bear  his  dignities  with  credit  or 
even  serenity.  As  confusion  increased,  Charles 
became  eager  to  depart  with  the  Flemings,  just 
as  though  Spain  "had  been  Tartarus  and  they 
were  all  bound  at  once  to  Elysium."  At  last,  on 
the  twentieth  day  of  May,  the  king  embarked 
"with  great  music  and  rejoicing"  for  Flanders, 
leaving  Isabella's  kingdom,  says  the  historian, 
"weighed  down  by  griefs  and  misfortunes."* 
Her  children  rose  to  sustain  her  in  this  time  of  her 
desertion,  but  they  fell  too  soon,  crushed  to  earth 
with  the  country  they  could  not  save. 

One  by  one  the  Castilian  Communities  rebelled 
against  their  absent  sovereign.  To  some  of  them 
the  last  drop  in  an  overflowing  cup  was  the  re- 
turn of  their  deputies,  whose  grant  of  moneys  to 
Charles  was  held  for  arrant  treachery.  Tumults 
broke  out  everywhere ;  effigies  of  unfaithful  depu- 
ties were  burned  ;  royal  governors  were  expelled ; 
new  magistrates  were  chosen;  city-fortifications 
were  seized  by  the  people ;  old  liberties  were  re- 
stored and  new  were  created.  The  lowest  classes 
were  guilty  of  some  great  excesses,  such  as  always 
happen  when  the  mass  of  any  people  finds  itself 

*  "  Tarn  optati  a  Belgis  quam  ab  Hispanis  deplorati,  exoni  venti 
Csesarea  vela  tetenderunt  .  .  .  Mosstas  vidi  Caslellanorum  omnium 
vultus,  qui  miseram  Hispaniam  cernunt  versam  in  provinciam,  ab 
Oceauo  glaciali  guberuaiulam." — Peter  Martyr,  Ep.  670. 


230  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

too  suddenly  possessed  of  power.  The  chiefs  of 
the  Commoners,  almost  universally  chosen  from 
among  the  popular  Cavaliers,  were  unwearied  in 
works  of  humanity  and  compassion.  However 
black  were  the  different  rebellions,  the  royal  ban- 
ners waved  over  even  darker  scenes  in  those  fear- 
ful days.  It  is  scarcely  worth  while  to  seek  out 
stains  upon  the  pages  of  contemporary  chronicles 
or  letters,  whose  testimony  is,  of  course,  almost  en- 
tirely against  the  fallen  Commoners.  But  through 
all  the  war  there  is  recorded  no  cruelty  more 
cold-blooded,  than  the  burning,  by  royal  troops, 
of  three  thousand,  some  say  five  thousand  persons, 
men,  women,  and  children,  in  the  Cathedral  of 
Mora,  destroyed  with  the  very  shrines  at  which 
they  had  sought  safety.  The  better  Cavaliers,  as 
well  as  the  better  Commoners,  would  have  restored 
peace,  even  at  their  own  peril.  At  the  worst,  the 
brief  revenge  of  the  populace  was  far  less  wicked 
than  the  long  injuries  they  had  borne  in  other 
times;  "a  sword  in  a  madman's  hands" *  is  not 
often  so  dangerous  as  a  tyrant's  axe.  Yet  it  was 
a  fatal  boldness  in  the  Communities  to  have  set 
themselves  against  such  power  as  Charles  held 
above  them.  Their  common  cries,  "Long  life  to 
the  king  !"  "  Death  to  the  bad  Councillors  !"  were 
signs  of  sedition  that  might  have  been  easily  satis- 
fied.    The  struggles  into  which  the  Commoners 

*  So  Peicr  Martyr  wrote  :  "  Est  gladius  in  manu  furenlis  populo 
poti'stalem  prtebere." — Epist.  636. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  231 

pluijged,  were  for  ancient  rights  and  against  recent 
wrongs,  but  the  strife  was  unequal  and  its  issue 
sure.  The  weakest  were  the  soonest  wasted,  and 
numbers,  bravery,  and  generosity  were  spent  in 
vain.  Each  rising  in  Castile  sprang  from  common 
oppression;  each  followed  the  same  periods  of 
popular  triumphs ;  and  it  is  only  by  gathering  all 
together,  that  we  can  count  the  store  which  was 
expended. 

While  the  people  were  rising  in  Madrid,  then 
an  obscure  and  ill-favored  city,  its  Alcalde  de  Var- 
gas, a  faithful  servant  to  the  king,  took  refuge, 
with  such  followers  as  he  could  collect,  in  the  Al- 
cazar, or  Castle  of  the  town.  Being  soon  hard 
pressed  by  the  newly  armed  citizens,  he  went  out 
alone  by  night  to  seek  assistance  at  Alcala,  distant 
some  sixteen  miles.  There  he  found  forty  men  to 
follow  him  back,  but  when  already  near  the 
Madrid  gates,  they  were  attacked  by  a  large  num- 
ber of  citizens,  who,  by  some  accident,  had  been 
alarmed,  and  who  were  waiting  for  any  enemies 
that  might  be  approaching  the  city.  Forty  men 
could  do  nothing  against  hundreds,  and  even  de 
Yargas  was  forced  to  set  the  example  and  save 
his  men  by  swiftest  flight  back  to  Alcala.  But 
the  Madrid  Alcazar  was  not  yet  surrendered.  The 
place  which  de  Vargas  unwillingly  left,  was  taken 
by  his  wife,  Dona  Agnes,  who  made  it  known 
through  Madrid,  that,  where  she  was,  there  the 
king's  authority  should  be  preserved.     The  citi- 


232  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

zens  defied  her  and  pressed  on  ;  the  soldiers  within 
cheered  her  and  kept  their  post ;  a  company  of 
royal  troops  came  near  to  succor  her,  but  was 
driven  back  by  some  Toledan  Commoners;  yet 
still  Dona  Agnes,  with  more  than  womanly  forti- 
tude, maintained  the  Alcazar  against  attacks  by 
day  and  night,  nor  yielded  it,  until  the  best  among 
her  men  were  slain,  and  the  few  who  remained 
were  utterly  exhausted.  The  Commoners  took 
it  into  their  possession  with  great  rejoicing,  yet 
not,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  without  honorable  regard 
for  the  brave  woman  who  had  kept  it  well  against 
them. 

Meanwhile,  Cardinal  Adrian,  the  Regent,  was  at 
Yalladolid,  in  a  sad  state  of  perplexity.  He  would 
have  bent  beneath  the  weight  of  his  own  authority 
in  more  tranquil  times,  and  all  the  strength  of  the 
Royal  Council  was  now  necessary  to  sustain  him. 
At  the  head  of  the  Council,  was  the  Archbishop 
of  Granada,  a  passionate  old  man,  who  was  much 
enraged  by  the  insurrections  about  him,  and  asked 
for  measures  of  merciless  severity  against  the 
Commoners.  His  voice  prevailed  with  confused 
and  weak-minded  colleagues.  Without  making 
one  human  effort  to  stay  the  passions  of  cruelly 
abused  men,  it  was  at  once  resolved  to  lash  and 
chain  them  to  rest.  The  city  of  Segovia  had 
been  one  of  the  earliest  in  rebellion,  and  one  of  its 
deputies  to  the  Cortes  was  even  slain  by  the  pop- 
ulace on  his  return.     Segovia  was  now  to  be  first 


WAR  OF  THE  C03IMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  233 

subdued,  according  to  the  Council.  An  Alcalde 
Ronquillo,  whose  rough-shod  judgments  had  al- 
ready left  evil  traces  throughout  Castile,  was  sent 
with  one  thousand  men-at-arms  to  crush  Segovia 
to  dust ;  a  harsh  and  choleric  man,  worthy  to  begin 
the  counterwork  of  oppression. 

Segovia  was  proud  among  the  proudest  cities  of 
Castile.  Its  history  was  traced  back  to  the  Roman 
dominion,  when  the  Emperor  Trojan  had  built  an 
aqueduct  for  its  people,  and  its  modern  boast  was 
that  Isabella  had  there  been  first  proclaimed  queen 
of  Castile.  When  Alcalde  Ronquillo  marched 
against  it,  there  may  have  been  30,000  inhabitants 
within  its  walls,  and  half  of  these,  at  least,  would 
rather  have  died  than  have  seen  their  homes  de- 
stroyed and  their  rights  abandoned.  Ronquillo 
came,  as  the  people  said,  an  executioner  rather  than 
a  judge,  "not  with  pointed  pens  to  write  in  ink,  but 
with  sharp  lances  to  draw  blood."  A  petition  for 
more  charitable  treatment  was  hurriedly  sent  to 
Cardinal  Adrian,  but  without  trusting  to  his  clem- 
ency, the  Segovians  took  their  arms  and  joined 
them,  under  the  command  of  Juan  Bravo,  a  brave 
Commoner  and  true.  Ronquillo  advanced  to  a 
town  within  fifteen  miles  of  Segovia,  where  he 
established  his  quarters,  yet  prevented,  by  the 
scantiness  of  his  numbers,  to  do  anything  more 
than  make  proclamations  against  the  rebels,  and 
prove  his  sincerity  by  hanging  or  torturing  the 
few  prisoners  who  fell  into  his  power.    Afterwards, 


234  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

when  his  troops  were  increased,  he  began  to 
attempt  more  effective  measures.  But  the  cities 
of  Castile,  which  had  rebelled  like  Segovia,  and 
which  might  be  next  attacked,  when  that  had 
fallen,  determined  to  save  their  neighbor  and  their 
ally.  Juan  de  Padilla,  earliest  in  the  field,  brought 
five  hundred  men  from  Toledo,  and  as  many  more 
were  sent  by  other  near  Communities.  Padilla's 
first  trial  of  strength  was  successful,  and  Alcalde 
Ronquillo  was  compelled  to  retreat  fi-om  the 
position  he  had  kept  for  nearly  a  month  past. 
The  only  result  of  his  expedition  was  to  hasten 
the  civil  war,  and  give  confidence  to  the  Com- 
moners. 

On  the  twenty-ninth  of  July,  while  the  royal 
troops  were  close  upon  Segovia,  a  number  of  de- 
puties from  Toledo,  Salamanca,  Avila,  Toro, 
Zamora  and  Leon,  met  together  in  the  Cathedral 
chapter  of  Avila,  a  town  forty  or  fifty  miles  from 
Madrid,  and  gave  to  their  assembly  the  name  of 
La  Santa  Junta  de  Avila,  the  Holy  Council  of 
Avila.  Toledo  had  demanded,  again  and  again, 
the  institution  of  some  such  confederacy  among 
her  sister  Communities,  and  one  of  her  wisest  ad- 
visers, Pedro  Laso  de  la  Vega,  was  now  chosen 
President  of  the  Avila  Council.  Upon  the  Chris- 
tian cross,  the  deputies  swore  to  have  "no  other 
ends  than  the  king's  service  and  the  people's 
favor,"  an  honest  oath  and  one  they  would  have 
kept,  "not   as  rebels,  but    as    saviors    of   their 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  235 

country."  Other  deputies  came,  afterwards,  from 
Madrid,  Guadalaxara,  Soria,  Murcia,  Cuenca, 
Segovia,  Valladolid,  Burgos,  and  Ciudad  Real. 
These  were  all  the  cities  entitled  to  a  voice  in  the 
Castilian  Cortes,  excepting  those  of  Andalusia. 
The  remote  position  and  the  unsettled  population 
of  this  southern  province  kept  back  its  sympathy 
from  Castile.  Seville,  far  the  most  national  of  all 
the  Andalusian  cities,  was  overawed  by  the  power 
of  the  great  Medina-Sidonias.  At  a  later  period, 
a  Council  was  formed  in  the  south,  under  the 
name  of  La  Junta  de  la  Rambla,  which  deliber- 
ately offered  to  the  king  its  assistance  in  subduing 
the  Holy  Council  of  Avila,  then  in  full  vigor  of 
authority.  The  first  measures  of  the  Avila  Coun- 
cil were  wise  and  brave.  Without  yielding  their 
liberties,  they  would  have  avoided  the  necessity 
of  perilling  them  in  uncertain  war.  They  bound 
their  Communities  in  close  union,  and  then  looked 
after  their  enemies.  The  Cardinal  Adrian,  all  the 
while  ordering  the  deputies  to  separate,  was  become 
so  contemptibly  helpless,  that  they  were  provoked 
to  make  the  attempt,  at  last,  to  disembarrass  them- 
selves and  their  comitry  of  his  woful  Regency. 

We  left  Alcalde  de  Ronquillo  retreating  from 
Segovia,  before  Juan  de  Padilla.  He  was  soon 
joined,  and  superseded  in  his  command,  by  Antonio 
de  Fonseca,  the  Captain-General  of  Castile.  Some 
artillery,  of  which  the  royal  troops  were  much  in 
need,  was  stored  at  Medina  del  Campo,  a  town 


236  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

half-way  between  Valladolid  and  Segovia.  At  the 
end  of  August,  Fonseca  directed  his  march  to  this 
place,  intending,  after  providing  himself  with  ar- 
tillery, to  attack  Segovia  a  second  time.  The 
Segovians,  taking  alarm,  wrote  to  the  citizens  of 
Medina,  beseeching  them  to  refuse  delivery  of  the 
artillery.  Medina  was  already  resolved  to  defend 
herself  In  vain  the  Cq,ptain-General  summoned 
the  people  to  surrender  the  royal  stores  :  in  vain  his 
men  advanced  against  the  town ;  the  very  cannon 
they  sought  were  turned  against  them,  and  every 
citizen  fought  as  a  trained  soldier.  Then,  in  the 
hot  confusion  of  the  battle,  Fonseca  ordered  the 
town  to  be  set  on  fire,  believing,  probably,  that 
the  towns-people  would  care  more  for  saving  their 
own  homes  than  for  keeping  the  king's  artillery. 
It  must  have  been  a  dismal  fight ;  but  the  men  of 
Medina  were  not  dismayed,  looking  back  upon 
their  burning  houses,  says  the  chronicler,  "as 
though  they  had  belonged  to  the  enemy."  So 
Fonseca  was  repulsed  with  the  double  shame  of 
defeat  and  cruelty.  Medina  lay  in  blackened 
ruins;  its  churches,  monasteries  and  houses, — 
nine  hundred,  some  said, — all  were  fallen.  Scarce- 
ly a  place  of  common  shelter  could  be  found,  and 
even  the  church-services  were  necessarily  per- 
formed in  the  open  air.  Wealth,  comfort,  and 
subsistence  were  gone ;  horrible  deeds  had  been 
done  by  the  king's  soldiers;  and,  as  the  citizens 
wrote,  "what  they  had  suffered  they  had  hearts 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE,  237 

to  endure,  but  no  tongues  to  tell."  Then,  "burning 
with  rage  as  their  houses  had  burned  with  fire," 
they  set  up  a  mob-government,  under  a  weaver 
named  Bobadilla,  and,  giving  loose  to  their  worst 
passions,  fell  madly  upon  some  of  their  old  magis- 
trates, whom  they  charged,  truly  or  falsely,  with 
treachery.  The  measure  of  Medina's  desolation 
was  full. 

Segovia,  herself  saved  by  the  courage  of  this 
desolate  city,  hastily  sent  the  first  words  of  grati- 
tude and  sympathy.  "  Be  sure,"  wrote  her 
magistrates,  "  be  sure  that,  rather  than  have  you 
lose  so  much,  we  would  have  lost  our  lives ;  but 
since  Medina  hath  been  destroyed  for  Segovia's 
sake,  Segovia  will  revenge  Medina's  ruin.  .  .  And 
from  this  time  remember  that  all  of  us  do  pledge  for 
each  one  of  you  our  fortunes  and  our  lives."  Pa- 
dilla  was  already  on  the  way  with  troops  from  To- 
ledo, Madrid,  and  Segovia,  to  save  Medina.  He 
came  too  late,  and  was  met  by  the  people  bearing 
black  flags  before  them.  Such  assistance  as  they 
still  needed,  was  cheerfully  given,  and  in  a  few 
days  something  was  done  to  repair  the  calamities 
from  which  Medina  never  entirely  recovered.  The 
forces  under  Padilla's  command  were  daily  in- 
creasing. The  flames  of  the  burning  city  had 
glared  like  signal  fires  of  insurrection,  over  all 
Castile.  The  royal  troops  were  retreating  and 
separating  in  disgrace.  It  was  a  time  for  the 
Commoners  to  use  their  freshest  vigor,  and  Pa- 


238  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

dilla   was   not   a  leader  to  hesitate,  when  there 
were  any  energies  to  sustain  his  own. 

Fifteen  miles  from  Medina,  at  Tordesillas,  lived 
poor  Queen  Joanna,  Isabella's  daughter,  and 
mother  to  King  Charles,  with  no  other  companion 
than  her  husband  Philip's  coffin,  and  no  other 
guardians  than  the  Marquis  and  Marchioness  de 
Denia.  The  king's  party,  or  the  Cavaliers,  said 
she  was  mad ;  the  Commoners  declared  her 
to  be  in  perfect  possession  of  her  senses,  and  im- 
prisoned against  her  will.  Padilla  looked  to  the 
queen,  whether  she  were  sane  or  insane,  as  one  he 
surely  honored  for  her  mother's  sake.  He  felt 
how  much  the  cause  of  the  Communities  was  in 
need  of  some  overshadowing  name,  and  that  Jo- 
anna's might  well  be  set  up  against  the  king's. 
Padilla  contrived  to  inform  her  of  his  approach, 
and  then,  without  further  delay,  left  Medina,  ap- 
pearing before  Tordesillas  on  the  second  of  Sep- 
tember. At  the  queen's  command,  he  was  wel- 
comed by  the  towns-people,  and  Joanna  herself 
received  him.  as  a  deliverer  and  a  trusted  friend. 
The  young  chief  stood  before  the  solitary  queen 
and  told  her  the  strange  story  of  Charles's  absence, 
and  of  the  evils  he  had  left  behind  him  in  Castile. 
"  I  am  come,"  said  Padilla,  "  to  Tordesillas,  in 
your  Highness'  defence,  and  it  is  to  your  com- 
mand and  to  my  service,  that  Castilians  look  now 
for  mercy  and  deliverance."  "  Go  then,  as  my 
Captain-General,"  replied  Joanna,  "to  prepare  all 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  239 

necessary  things,  and  I  will  take  care  of  you  and  of 
my  people."  In  this,  and  in  other  later  interviews, 
to  which  Padilla  and  the  Deputies  of  the  Avila 
Council  were  admitted,  Joanna  bore  herself  wise- 
ly and  royally.*  At  her  summons,  the  Council 
removed  its  sessions  from  Avila  to  Tordesillas. 
The  Communities  sent  troops  to  guard  the  queen 
and  protect  the  council.  All  the  Commoner  chiefs 
hastened  to  give  their  homage  to  Joanna,  whose 
presence  among  them  did  honor  and  service  to 
their  cause.  Tordesillas  could  scarcely  contain 
this  multitude  of  strangers. 

The  king's  Council  of  Regency  had  been  estab- 
lished at  Valladolid,  in  confidence  of  that  ancient 
city's  loyalty.  But,  when  tidings  were  brought  to 
it  from  fallen  Medina,  the  great  bell  was  rung, 
and  an  armed  crowd  collected  in  the  great  square 
of  the  city.  A  fearful  night,  black  with  "that 
fury,  which,"  according  to  our  chronicler,  "  the 
devil  sowed  in  Spain,"  was  spent  in  Valladolid. 
Captain-General  Fonseca's  house  was  pulled  to 
the  ground,  and  wild  deeds,  that  we  love  not  to 
read,  were  done.  In  the  morning  a  new  govern- 
ment was  formed  under  magistrates  taken  from 
among  the  Cavaliers.  Poor  Cardinal  Adrian  and 
his  councillors  trembled  for  their  lives.     Even  the 


*  It  was  once  said  to  her  that  the  king  had  done  great  injury  to 
the  kingdom,  and  she  answered,  with  striking  expression,  that  it 
was  Castile's  fault  if  it  had  suffered  harm  from  her  son,  who 
•was  but  a  hoy. 


240  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

fierce  old  Archbishop  of  Granada,  President  of  the 
Council,  confessed  that  he  knew  not  how  to  op- 
pose such  fury  as  possessed  the  people.  The 
Cardinal  was  for  yielding,  and  began  by  consent- 
ing to  disband  the  army,  then  in  retreat  from 
Medina.  Fonseca  and  Ronquillo  only  saved 
themselves  by  taking  to  horse^  and  escaping  to 
Portugal,  from  which  they  soon  sailed  to  Flan- 
ders. Just  after  the  Valladolid  tumults  were 
quieted,  came  a  Dominican  friar  with  troops  and 
letters  from  the  Council  at  Tordesillas,  demanding 
the  removal  of  the  Regent's  Council  to  the  same 
city.  This  was  rather  too  much  to  bear,  but  Pa- 
dilla's  arrival,  at  the  head  of  twelve  hundred  men, 
settled  the  question.  Some  of  the  councillors 
escaped ;  the  others,  with  the  great  seal  of  Castile, 
were  conducted  by  Padilla  to  Tordesillas.  Good 
Cardinal  Adrian  was  left  behind  in  utter  despair. 
He  was  for  "giving  up  the  ship  to  the  storm," 
says  the  historian,  but  not,  we  may  believe,  with- 
out setting  himself  in  safety  by  escaping  from 
Valladolid.  The  people  watched  him  closely,  and, 
when  he  went  out  one  morning  towards  the  gates, 
they  rang  their  great  bell,  and  swarmed  about 
him  "like  ants."  Pedro  Giron,  already  high  in 
influence  with  the  citizens,  succeeded  in  saving  the 
king's  Regent  from  any  greater  dishonor  than  that 
of  being  obliged  to  make  his  way  back,  in  the 
midst  of  armed  men,  with  drums  beating  and 
trumpets  blowing  in  his  cars.     But  the  Cardinal 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  241 

was  desperate  ;  he  would  abide  no  longer  among 
this  bell-ringing  and  trumpet-blowing  people,  and 
soon  stole  away,  alone  and  in  disguise,  going  with 
all  speed  to  join  the  Admiral  of  Castile,  who  was 
in  arms,  sixteen  miles  off,  at  Rio  Seco. 

It  was  scarcely  a  day  more  than  six  months 
from  the  opening  of  the  Cortes,  in  Santiago,  and 
the  Castilian  Communities,  then  everywhere  op- 
pressed, were  now  everywhere  triumphant.  Their 
Council  and  their  favorite  general  Padilla  were  in 
high  favor  with  Q,ueen  Joanna.  Nobles  and 
priests  and  citizens  were  in  arms  for  the  sake  of 
liberties  once  lost  but  found  again.  Their  ene- 
mies were  separated,  the  Royal  Council  was  dis- 
solved, and  the  Regent,  himself,  was  a  fugitive. 
The  waves,  chained  and  beaten  in  the  king's 
name,  were  rolling  over  his  broken  authority, 
throughout  the  best  part  of  Spain.  If  there  were 
any  government  afloat,  it  was  that  of  Tordesillas, 
"in  the  names  of  the  Q,ueen,  the  King,  and  the 
Holy  Council." 

King  Charles,  still  in  Brussels,  had  heard  of  the 
first  revolts  against  his  authority,  through  some 
Flemings,  lately  returned  from  Spain.  The  strange 
story  they  brought,  was  confirmed  by  despatches 
from  the  Cardinal  Regent,  relating  "what  might 
seem  a  fable  to  have  happened  in  so  noble  a  king- 
dom and  in  so  short  a  time,"  and  confessing  that 
"  the  royal  ofiicers  were  no  longer  ministers  of 
justice,  but  victims  of  the  people's  wrath,  being 


242  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

in  nowise  powerful."  The  picture  Avhich  these 
despatches  give  of  the  Council's  imbecility  is 
amusing:  "If  we  wish  to  cut  this  evil  short  by 
judgment,  we  are  not  obeyed ;  if  by  peaceable 
entreaty,  we  are  not  trusted ;  if  by  force,  we  have 
neither  men  nor  money  in  our  service."  There 
was  little  more  wisdom  in  the  Brussels  Court 
than  in  the  Valladolid  Council.  The  Spanish 
courtiers  were  enraged  against  the  Flemings  that 
they  had  provoked  Castile  to  rebellion.  The 
Flemings  abused  the  Spaniards  for  belonging  to  a 
nation  which  had  risen  against  its  king.  Chief- 
minister  Chievres  had  no  resolution  to  help  his 
embarrassed  sovereign ;  and  Charles  called  a  Coun- 
cil, which  was  taken  up  with  too  many  prejudices 
and  too  many  desires  to  do  him  any  service. 
Germans  would  persuade  their  Emperor  to  go  on 
to  Germany ;  Italians  implored  his  countenance  in 
Italy ;  Aragonese  claimed  his  aid  in  subduing  the 
seditions  at  Valencia;  Castilians  declared  that 
without  him  all  was  lost  in  Spain;  and  even 
Flemings  put  in  a  word  for  themselves,  recom- 
mending the  tranquillity  and  attachment  of  their 
own  provinces.  While  each  was  spealcing  for 
himself,  Charles  was  quite  unable  to  act  for  all. 
He  was  himself  most  impatient  to  take  possession 
of  his  German  Empire,  and  to  Germany  he  re- 
solved to  travel  on.  Castile  he  thought  to  appease 
by  letters  from  his  own  hand,  commanding  her  to 
obedience,  and  promising  his  early  return.     He 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  243 

even  renounced  the  "Free  Gift"  of  the  Santiago 
Cortes,  and  declared  that  CastiHans  alone  should 
henceforth  be  promoted  to  the  dignities  of  the 
kingdom.  Partly  in  earnest  of  his  better  purposes, 
partly  to  lighten  the  load  under  which  Cardinal 
Adrian  was  fast  sinking,  but  still  more  to  secure 
the  wavering  devotion  of  the  Castilian  nobility, 
Charles  now  appointed  his  Admiral,  Fadrique 
Enriquez,  and  his  Constable,  Inigo  Velasco,  both 
"cavaliers  of  ancient  and  generous  blood,"  to  be 
the  Cardinal's  colleagues  in  the  Regency.  A  better 
blow  than  this,  in  defence  of  his  royal  authority, 
could  not  have  been  struck.  The  nobles  of  Cas- 
tile at  once  gathered  round  the  new  Regents, 
proud  in  fidelity  to  honorable  and  national  names. 
The  king  often  acknowledged  that  he  owed  his 
crown  to  the  good  services  of  the  Constable  in 
Castile.  From  the  day  of  his  appointment,  and 
the  Admiral's,  to  authority,  the  course  of  the  war 
was  changed. 

The  king's  grace  was  shown  too  late  to  save 
his  people.  Royal  promises,  which,  six  months 
before,  would  have  been  signs  of  great  things  to 
Castile,  now  seemed  nothing  more  than  the  first 
fruits  of  insurrection,  forced  from  a  hard  master. 
The  Commoners  were  rather  encouraged  in  rebel- 
lion, than  brought  back  to  obedience,  by  the  Brus- 
sels letters.  In  the  name  of  the  Holy  Council,  a 
long  and  bold  reply  was  sent  to  Charles,  now 
crowned  Emperor  of  Germany.     "The  laws  of 


244  "WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

these  your  kingdoms"  —  thus  the  letter  ran  — 
"the  laws  of  these  your  kingdoms,  most  sover- 
eign prince,  say  and  order  among  other  things 
that  the  King  do  nothing  against  his  own  honor 
and  the  commonweal.*  Of  the  evil  government 
which  hath  been  over  us,  and  of  the  losses  and 
exorbitancies,  which  have  been  brought  upon  us, 
we  believe  your  Councillors  to  be  especially  guilty. 
Therefore,  doing  what  it  was  right  to  do  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  your  kingdoms,  we  have  re- 
moved from  your  Council  those  who  worked  the 
miseries  of  which  we  write  at  length.  We  would 
do  as  much  by  those  other  Councillors,  now  with 
your  Majesty,  were  they  but  here,  since  their 
misdoings  have  been  the  same.  .  .  But  we  rather 
beseech  your  Majesty,  for  our  relief  and  good 
government,  to  confirm  the  chapters  which  we 
send  herewith;  and  for  what  we  have  done  in 
your  royal  service  and  in  the  interest  of  your 
kingdoms,  we  entreat  your  Majesty  to  esteem  it 
well  and  reverently  done."  In  all  this,  be  it  ob- 
served, there  is  the  mingling  of  loyalty  and  lib- 
erty, peculiar  to  the  Castilian  character. 

The  Chapters,   (^Cajjliulos,)  which  this   letter 
accompanied  as  herald,   were  no  less  than  one 


*  Compareoneof  the  Visigoth  laws  :  "Sanetamde  praesenti  quam 
de  futuris  regibus  hanc  sentenliam  promulganius,  ut  si  quis  ex  eis, 
contra  revcrcntiam  legum,  superba  dominatione  et  fastu  regio,  in  fla- 
gitiis  et  facinore,  sive  cupiditate,  crudelissimam  potestatcm  in  po- 
pulis  exercuerit,  anathematis  sententia,  etc." 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  245 

hundred  and  eighteen  in  number.  Lengthy  though 
they  be,  we  have  much  to  seek  in  them,  for  they 
are  the  only  monuments,  which  have  been  allowed 
to  bear  good  inscriptions  for  the  Commoners.  The 
words  upon  them  are  so  brave,  the  hopes  beneath 
them  were  so  fair,  that  we  would  linger  to  read 
and  know  them  for  ourselves.  The  Chapters 
begin  with  a  mournful  history  of  the  miseries  by 
which  Castile  had  been  driven  into  rebellion,  and 
to  this  there  followed  the  demands  of  the  Com- 
moners. They  asked,  in  the  first  place,  that  the 
king  would  return  to  govern  them  as  they  desired. 
They  claimed  his  pardon  for  any  evil  courses, 
into  which  they  might  have  fallen,  and  his  en- 
couragement of  the  manly  purposes  they  had  more 
generally  pursued.  They  directly  intimated,  that, 
if  the  sources  of  sedition  were  to  be  closed  by  their 
submission,  it  was  necessary  that  the  sources  of 
oppression  should  be  also  closed  by  limits  set  about 
the  king's  power.  The  great  point  on  which  the 
Council  insisted  with  Charles  was  the  suppression 
of  all  unjust  privileges,  hitherto  recognized  by 
the  Castilian  sovereigns,  so  "  that  all  should  con- 
tribute, all  be  taxed,  and  all  be  equal  in  Castile."* 
This  claim  to  equality  before  the  laws  is  like  a 
cross  set  upon  the  citadel,  by  which  the  Common- 
ers would  have  protected  their  liberty ;  alas  !  that 
it  was  built  in  air,  a  very  Chateau  en  Espagne. 

*  "  Que  en  Castilla  todos  contribuyesen,  todos  fuesen  igualesy  to- 
dos  pechasen." 


246  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

All  Other  demands  were  subordinate;  that  justice 
should,  be  sheltered  beneath  larger  laws,  and  be 
administered  by  more  righteous  judges ;  that  the 
offices  of  state  should  no  more  be  sold  or  thrown 
to  strangers,  but  given,  as  of  right,  to  native  Cas- 
tilians ;  that  industry  should  be  protected,  cur- 
rency controlled,  and  taxation  regulated  anew ; 
that  even  the  power  of  the  Church  should  be  lim- 
ited, and  its  prelates  be  forced  to  live  in  Christian 
intercourse  with  their  people ;  and  that,  "  to  ob- 
serve the  security  of  these  laws  and  privileges," 
the  Cortes,  composed  of  free-chosen  deputies, 
should  be  assembled  every  three  years.  All  the 
branches  of  government,  in  church  and  state, 
were  to  be  thus  trained  and  tended,  that  the  deso- 
lation of  those  weary  years  might  never  return  to 
Castile.  So  be  the  Commoners  known  and  upheld. 
Had  such  claims  as  these  prevailed  in  peace,  their 
kingdom  might  have  become,  even  as  they  prayed, 
"the  richest  and  most  blessed  of  the  earth." 

But  the  hopes  of  the  Castilians  were  premature. 
At  the  same  period,  when  these  Chapters  were 
sent  to  Charles  Fifth,  the  English  Parliament  was 
bending  itself  double  before  Henry  Eighth,  and 
the  States  General  of  France  were  only  strong 
enough  to  yield  a  faint  assent  to  all  that  Francis 
First  might  ask  from  them.  The  Commoners 
asked  much  more  than  Charles  was  wilHng  to 
yield,  and  what  he  considered  the  extravagance 
of  their  demands  provoked  him  to  harsher  meas- 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  247 

ures  than  he  had  hitherto  attempted.  Of  the  three 
messengers,  sent  with  these  despatches  from  the 
Holy  Council,  one  was  seized  and  imprisoned  on 
the  way,  and  the  other  two  never  dared  to  ap- 
proach the  king.  The  Castilians  heard  from  afar, 
that  so  fast  as  they  were  taken  they  should  be 
slain  "without  trial  or  form  of  justice."  But  they 
were  not  yet  to  be  disheartened.  It  was  openly 
debated  in  the  Council  whether  Charles  should 
not  be  solemnly  deposed,  nay,  whether  Joanna 
should  not  now  espouse  some  prince,  who  might 
govern  Spain  in  her  name.  We  need  not  wonder 
that  the  Commoners  never  thought  of  governing 
themselves,  for  the  principle  of  republicanism  was 
impossible  in  their  country  and  in  their  age.  It  was 
too  late  for  them  to  retreat  from  the  field  on  which 
so  much  was  staked ;  it  was  too  early  to  conquer 
all  the  liberties  which  belonged  to  them  as  men. 
In  any  event,  they  had  need  of  prudence  and 
energy  and  good  faith,  such  as  could  alone  make 
labor  sure  or  success  availing.  Yet  these  do  not 
seem  to  have  universally  or  even  generally  be- 
longed to  the  Commoners.  The  circumstances, 
which  had  drawn  them  together  in  their  necessity, 
did  not  keep  them  together  through  their  trial. 
The  impulse  with  which  they  started  did  not  last 
them  even  half-way  towards  their  shining  and 
distant  goal.  The  counsels  of  their  wisest  and 
the  deeds  of  their  bravest  men  were  not  long  sup- 
ported among  themselves.     "This  flame,"  wrote 


248  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

Peter  Martyr,  "will  end  in  smoke,  as  I  opine,  be- 
cause the  heads  of  this  mad  Council,  altogether 
wanting  in  experience,  are  already  turning  to- 
wards their  own  vain-glory."  And  "what  they 
wish,  they  do  not  even  understand ;  like  to  but- 
terflies which  waver  through  the  air,  uncertain 
whither  they  are  flying."  * 


V. 


The  Constable-Regent  of  Castile  set  np  the 
royal  banners  in  October,  and  soon  collected  ten 
thousand  men-at-arms  led  by  the  flower  of  the 
Castilian  nobility,  and  commanded  by  his  own 
son,  the  Count  de  Haro.  The  obstinacy  of  the 
Council  in  refusing  the  king's  oflers  and  putting 
forward  their  own  claims,  had  already  raised  new 
enemies  against  the  Communities.  King  Eman- 
uel of  Portugal,  to  whom  the  Commoners  ad- 
dressed themselves  for  countenance  in  their  enter- 
prise, sent  a  large  sum  of  money,  not  to  them 
but  to  the  Cavaliers.  The  Castilian  nobles,  who 
thought  their  privileges  in  danger,  now  gave  their 
support  very  freely  to  the  Regents  towards  whom 

*  Peter  Martyr.    Opus  Episiolarum.  Ep.  713,  685. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  249 

some  popular  feeling  was  already  inclining.  On 
the  other  side,  the  Commoners  were  stirring  ac- 
tively. The  Council  called  upon  the  Communi- 
ties to  furnish  both  forces  and  supplies,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  gathering  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  men 
at  Tordesillas;  but  there  was  little  strength  in 
such  numbers,  undisciplined  and  undirected.  It 
is  an  especial  point  to  be  remembered  in  this 
brief  history,  that  the  chances  of  war,  that  is,  of 
action,  were  always  against  the  Commoners. 
Their  infantry  was  composed  of  tradesmen,  or 
workmen,  or  husbandmen,  who  scarcely  knew 
how  to  carry  their  weapons  properly,*  and  were 
in  all  ways  unfit  to  bear  any  good  part  in  open 
fields,  however  stoutly  they  could  defend  their 
thick-walled  towns.  The  cavalry,  then  the  best 
part  of  all  armies,  was,  with  the  Commoners, 
hastily  and  feebly  formed  out  of  such  cavaliers 
as  fought  for  the  people,  and  such  stranger  sol- 
diers as  fought  for  the  people's  pay.  In  the 
middle  classes  these  wants  of  discipline  and 
strength  were  made  up  by  resolution  and  hearty 
spirit,  but  to  the  lower  classes  there  was  little 
help,  because  they  had  been  too  long  degraded  to 
be  suddenly  capable  of  prudent  purpose,  or  even 
of  simple  self-protection.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
Cavaliers,  military  in  their  very  names,  were  strong 


*  Juncterorum  copijE  sunt  rusticanae,  vomeribus  et  ligonibus  per 
tractandis  aptiores  quam  armis. — Peter  Martyr,  Ep.  705. 


250  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

in  a  force  of  veteran  foot-soldiers,  and  were  them- 
selves enrolled  in  the  cavalry  of  their  excellent 
army.  A  great  mistake  was  presently  made  by 
the  leaders  among  the  Commoners.  Juan  de  Pa- 
dilla,  who  had  been  foremost  in  all  the  previous 
adventures  of  the  war,  and  who  had  become  "the 
idol "  of  all  Castile,  was  momentarily  absent 
from  the  army.  Jealous  of  his  popularity,  or  blind 
to  his  superiority,  the  Council  had  him  set  aside 
in  making  choice  of  a  commander.  To  one  so 
disinterested  and  devoted  as  Padilla,  another, 
whose  character  was  made  up  of  pride,  choler,  and 
treachery,  was  now  preferred ;  and,  not  without 
clamor  among  the  soldiers,  Pedro  Giron  was  chos- 
en Captain-General  of  the  Communities. 

The  resources  of  the  Commoners  seemed  more 
abundant  than  they  really  were,  apparently  avail- 
ing and  pressing  to  instant  service.  The  Cavaliers 
believed  that  present  odds  were  against  them,  and 
sought  delay  in  opening  a  conference  with  the 
Council.  The  Admiral-Regent  met  Pedro  Laso 
and  some  other  deputies  at  Torrelobaton,  half 
way  between  Rio  Seco,  (the  royal  head-quarters,) 
and  Tordesillas.  They  were  six  days  together, 
but  as  the  terms  which  the  Admiral  could  offer, 
were  much  less  than  the  Council  had  already  de- 
manded, they  were  firmly  refused.  In  fact,  the 
Regents  had  no  sort  of  authority  at  this  time,  to 
make  any  conditions  with  the  people  in  the  king's 
name.     So  the  conference  at  Torrelobaton  broke 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  251 

up;  "pens  and  tongues,"  says  the  chronicler, 
"  were  all  worn  out,"  and, 

"  Wild  trumpets  were  braying 
Aloud  for  Castile." 

All  now  depended  upon  strength  and  prudence  in 
war.  The  cause  which  was  to  fail,  was  to  fail 
for  ever.  Either  royalty  must  give  up  something 
of  its  power,  or  liberty  must  be  driven  utterly  out 
from  Castile. 

Already  the  balance  was  turning  against  the 
Communities.  The  nobles,  on  whom  they  had 
much  depended,  were  deserting  them.  Worse 
still  were  bitter  divisions  among  the  Common- 
ers themselves,  which,  though  scarcely  worth 
relating,  were  significant  of  failing  enthusiasm. 
Some  of  the  cities  were  inclining  to  accept  the 
offers  made  to  them,  separately,  by  the  Regents. 
Burgos,  second  only  to  Toledo  in  importance,  but 
behind  all  others  in  independence  of  spirit,  was 
gained  by  large  promises,  and  opened  her  gates  to 
the  constable,  (1st  of  November.)  Valladolid  was 
wavering  between  hope  of  gain  with  the  Com- 
moners and  fear  of  loss  from  the  Cavaliers.  The 
Toledan  troops  incontinently  deserted  the  army  at 
Tordesillas,  so  soon  as  any  other  general  than 
their  own  was  set  above  them.  But  Padilla  was 
true  when  other  hearts  were  growing  cold.  He 
hastened  from  Toledo,  met  his  troops  and  brought 
them  back  to  their  quarters,  offering  his  obedience 
and  theirs  to  the  orders  of  Captain-General  Giron. 


252         WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

The  Holy  Council  was  discordant  and  useless,  as 
if  its  name  had  been  the  Unholy.  Even  Queen 
Joanna  was  sunk  in  deepest  melancholy,  and  re- 
fused to  sign  the  papers  which  were  necessary  to 
the  Council's  and  the  army's  existence.  It  was 
easy  to  see  that  the  red  crosses  of  the  Commoners 
would  soon  be  abandoned  for  the  white  crosses  of 
the  Cavaliers.* 

The  king's  troops,  it  must  be  remembered,  were 
at  Medina  del  Rio  Seco,  only  twenty  miles  distant 
from  the  army  of  the  Communities  at  Tordesillas. 
Towards  the  end  of  November,  by  the  Council's 
orders,  Captain-General  Giron  marched  towards 
Rio  Seco,  and,  after  some  slight  skirmishes,  took 
position  within  a  few  miles  of  the  town.  There 
he  remained  for  two  or  three  days,  drawing  out 
his  troops,  every  morning,  in  battle  array,  and 
provoking  the  Cavaliers,  within  the  walls,  to  come 
out  and  meet  him,  by  frequent  flourishes  of  artil- 
lery. But  it  so  happened,  that  the  Count  de  Haro 
was  absent,  and  the  Cavaliers  were  unwilling  to 
venture  anything  until  his  return.  So  Pedro  Giron's 
parades  and  the  Bishop  of  Zamora's  impatience, — 
the  Bishop  being  now  in  the  very  van  of  the  army, 
— and  Padilla's  resolutions  were  all  spent  in  vain. 
When,  at  last,  the  Count  de  Haro  was  actually 
approaching    with    some    reinforcements,    Pedro 


*  These  colors,  white  and  red,  distinguished  the  two  parties  dur- 
ing the  war. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  253 

Giron  drew  off  his  army,  siii  porqtfe,  ni  saber  a 
que  Jin,  —  without  knowing  why,  or  having  any 
reason  at  all,  as  his  soldiers  said, — to  Villalpando, 
a  town  some  miles  west  of  Medina,  leaving  the 
southern  road  to  Tordesillas  open  to  the  enemy. 
Pedro  Giron  was  ti?ia  cabeza  llena  de  viento,  a 
windy-brained  man,  who  belonged  to  a  great 
family,*  from  whom  he  had  been  estranged  by 
some  aifront  put  upon  him  by  the  king.  While 
he  was  before  Rio  Seco,  the  Admiral,  who  knew 
him  well,  met  him  in  secret  interview,  and  per- 
suaded him  to  betray  the  cause  he  had  indiffer- 
ently upheld ;  and  it  was  in  consequence  of  such 
an  understanding  with  the  Regents,  that  Giron 
now  dragged  away  his  forces,  not  only  from  Rio 
Seco  but  from  Tordesillas.  There,  at  Tordesillas, 
were  Queen  Joanna  and  the  Council,  that  is,  the 
whole  government  which  the  Communities  pos- 
sessed or  obeyed,  and  to  strike  this  down  was  like 
cutting  off  a  hundred  heads  with  one  blow.  The 
Count  de  Haro  hurried  over  the  deserted  road 
from  Rio  Seco,  and  fell,  at  dusk,  upon  Tordesillas 
undefended,  save  by  the  Bishop  of  Zamora's  regi- 
ment of  priests,  and  a  few  men-at-arms.  Some 
brave  resistance  was  made  by  these,  but  the  king's 
army  was  too  numerous  to  be  driven  back,  and 
the  town  was  yielded.  In  dashed  the  Cavaliers, 
plundering,  seizing,  and  slaying.  Neither  house 
nor  church,  neither  man  nor  woman,  was  spared. 

*  He  was  the  Constable's  own  nephew. 


254  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

Nine  or  ten  deputies  of  the  Council  were  taken 
prisoners,  while  the  rest  escaped  as  they  could  by 
different  ways.  At  midnight,  the  Count  de  Haro 
sought  the  queen  and  kissed  her  hand  in  sign  of 
his  reverent  homage,  hut  she  was  quite  bewildered, 
heedless  of  friend  and  foe,  and,  indeed,  to  her  the 
Cavaliers'  triumph  or  the  Commoners'  could  bring 
hut  little  joy.  All  the  while,  the  Commoners  were 
at  Villalpando,  so  bound  by  their  general's  trea- 
chery, that  never  hand  nor  foot  was  moved  to 
save  their  queen,  their  Council  and  themselves 
from  ruin.     If  they  had  but  followed  Padilla  ! 

The  deputies  of  the  Council,  escaped  from 
Tordesillas,  were  soon  reassembled  at  Valladolid, 
whither  also  the  Commoners  marched  from  Villal- 
pando. Pedro  Giron,  "fatigued  with  his  com- 
mand," disappeared,  and  the  troops  remained  for 
some  time  without  any  General.  Valladolid  be- 
came a  scene,  as  Sandoval  wrote,  of  "massacre 
and  bloodshed,  and  robbery,  and  barbarity,"  and 
the  whole  kingdom  was  struggling  with  '-hunger, 
fire,  and  steel."  *  The  year  Avas  ending  in  disas- 
trous confusion.  Neither  the  Council  nor  the 
Regency  were  able  to  hinder  the  abuses  of  war, 
and  the  description  of  a  contemporary  writer  (Gue- 
vara) was  bitterly  true :  "things  being  come  to 
such  a  pass  that  there  are  no  roads  secure,  no 


*  Peter  Martyr's  words  are  these  :     "  Fame,  flamma,  ferro,  Regna 
ruuat  regia."  {Epist.  679.) 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  255 

temples  respected,  no  men  to  plough  the  fields, 
none  to  supply  the  common  means  of  subsistence, 
none  to  execute  justice,  none  even  who  are  safe  in 
their  own  dwellings,  insomuch  as  all  proclaim  the 
king,  and  all  refuse  to  obey  the  king."  * 

T[ie  hopes  of  the  Communities  rested  upon  Juan 
de  Padjila.  He  was  received  at  Valladolid  as  gladly 
as  if  he  had  been  "father  to  the  whole  people." 
A  few  skinnishes  with  the  Cavaliers,  of  no  other 
importance  than  that  the  energies  of  the  Common- 
ers were  kept  alive  by  action,  happened  towards 
the  close  of  the  year.  Padilla,  followed  closely 
by  the  Bishop  of  Zamora,  was  foremost  in  every 
adventure,  not  only  leading  his  men  to  fight 
bravely,  but,  what  was  strange  in  that  war, 
teaching  them  to  spare  nobly,  when  the  fight  was 
won.  His  gallantry  of  heart  and  arm  was  not 
without  its  reward,  and,  early  in  the  new  year 
(1521),  he  was  chosen  Captain-General  of  the 
Commoners.  The  superior  authority  amongst  his 
companions  had  fallen  to  him  since  the  desertion 
of  Pedro  Giron,  but  when  the  day  of  a  new  elec- 
tion was  fixed  at  Valladolid,  Padilla  was  the  first 
to  propose  another  General  than  himself,  and  was, 
of  all  others,  the  most  ready  to  acknowledge  the 
claims  which  Pedro  Laso,  an  older  but  a  weaker 

*  The  account  given  by  Peter  Martyr,  is  the  same.  "  Ad  sicario- 
rum  manus  jam  res  deducitur  .  .  .  Audet  exire  nemo  ;  Vinese 
cullurseque  deseruntur  ;  trucidanlur  in  agris  ruricols  ;  nil  tutum  est ; 
ad  arma  coaclamatur  quotidie."     {Epist.  709.) 


256         WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE, 

man,  put  forward  to  the  chief  command.  The 
citizens'  favor  and  the  soldiers'  love  belonged  en- 
tirely to  Padilla,  and  when  it  was  but  whispered 
that  the  Council  inclined  towards  Laso,  tumultu- 
ous crowds  began  to  gather  about  the  hall  of  ses- 
sion. Padilla  instantly  came  out  and  declared 
that  he  himself  was  first  in  voting  for  his  rival, 
but  this  generosity  so  warmed  all  hearts  to  enthu- 
siasm, that  the  council  was  obliged  to  promise  the 
election  which  troops  and  people  demanded  with 
threats  and  outcries.  Pedro  Laso,  who  had  been 
exceedingly  active  in  his  own  favor,  was  grievous- 
ly affronted  by  such  a  failure,  and  not  long  after 
went  over  to  the  Regent's  side,  leaving  his  old 
companions  to  do  what  they  could  under  the  Cap- 
tain-General they  had  preferred  to  him. 

Little  by  little,  Padilla  strove  to  prop  up  the 
cause,  which  was  really  falling,  and,  notwithstand- 
ing the  loss  of  Pedro  Laso's  countenance,  some 
signs  of  promise  to  the  Commoners  came  with  the 
new  year.  Padilla  was  not  without  hearty  aid. 
Juan  Bravo,  of  Segovia,  and  Francisco  Maldonado, 
of  Salamanca,  both  deserve  to  be  regarded  as  his 
tried  and  trusty  friends.  The  Bishop  of  Zamora 
was  wandering  in  arms  from  city  to  cit}'-,  preach- 
ing a  crusade  against  Cavaliers  and  Regents  and 
Kings.  He  went  to  Toledo,  and  the  people  de- 
clared that  they  would  have  him  for  their  Arch- 
bishop, conio  si  fueran  unos  Papas,  just  as  if 
they  had  been  popes,  exclaims  the  old  historian. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  257 

Toledo,  proud  of  Padilla,  was  submissive  to  all 
his  demands  for  aid,  and  even  to  the  measures  of 
support,  which  were  taken  by  his  wife,  Maria 
Pacheco.  Burgos  was  wavering  back  towards 
her  sister  communities,  and  all  the  neighboring 
country,  in  the  north,  was  risen  in  arms  under  the 
Count  de  Salvatierra,  a  furious  and  vindictive 
man,  who  had  joined  the  Commoners  from  motives 
of  utter  selfishness,  but  who  was  still  doing  good 
service  to  their  cause.  Some  new  dispatches  from 
Charles  to  the  Cavaliers  arrived  in  the  early  part 
of  the  year,  but  the  promises  they  bore  to  the  Com- 
moners were  like  oil  poured  upon  wild  fires.* 

Torrelobaton,  a  well-fortified  town,  commanded 
the  only  open  communication  between  Burgos, 
the  head-quarters  of  the  Constable,  and  Tordesillas, 
the  head-quarters  of  the  Admiral. f  In  both  one 
place  and  the  other,  preparations  of  war  against 
the  Commoners  were  rapidly  going  forward,  and 
it  was,  of  course,  a  great  object  with  Padilla  to 
interrupt  the  plans  of  his  enemies.  In  the  latter 
part  of  February,  he  ordered  out  his  whole  force 

*  Yet  even  these  flaming  fires  (tanti  ignes  flammantes)  were  kin- 
dled with  such  "straws  "  as  would  soon  burn  out.  "Fumi  sunt  hi 
paleareS;  qui  licet  naribus  sint  molesti,  quia  fcetidi,  ad  capitisque 
apli  gravedinem,  prepare  tamen  dissolvuntur."  So  writes  Peter 
Martyr,  Ep.  686. 

t  The  main  road  was  blocked  up  by  Valladolid,  occupied,  it  will  be 
remembered,  by  the  Commoners.  The  Royal  Council  was  with  the 
Constable  at  Burgos  ;  Cardinal  Adrian  was  at  Tordesillas,  with  the 
Admiral. 

17 


25S         WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

from  Valladolid,  and  marched  directly  against 
Torrelobaton,  which  was  then  defended  by  five  or 
six  hundred  Cavahers.  For  ten  days  there  was 
continued  fighting  about  the  town,  and  still  no 
other  attempt  in  succor  of  the  Cavaliers  was  made, 
than  the  sudden  advance  and  equally  sudden 
retreat  of  the  Count  de  Haro  with  a  thousand 
lances.  The  host  of  Commoners  prevailed,  and 
fell  upon  the  town  like  beasts  upon  long-hunted 
prey.  Padilla  lost  all  power  over  his  troops  even 
in  this  his  greatest  victory,  and,  gorged  with  booty 
and  blood,  they  deserted  him  by  hundreds.  A 
truce  was  declared  for  eight  days,  at  the  entreaty 
of  the  Cavaliers,  who  began  to  look  upon  the  war 
as  one  of  very  doubtful  issue.  During  the  time 
of  the  truce,  a  meeting  was  arranged  at  a  neigh- 
boring town,  between  the  leaders  of  either  army, 
but  Padilla  had  no  sooner  arrived  at  the  appointed 
place,  than  some  friend  among  the  Cavaliers 
warned  him  of  a  plot  for  his  assassination,  and 
he  rode  speedily  back,  leaving  the  chances  of  con- 
ference untried.  The  victory  at  Torrelobaton  was 
worse  than  any  defeat  could  have  been  to  the 
Commoners.  Padilla's  soldiers  left  him  to  carry 
home  their  plunder  and  their  glory.  He  was 
quite  unable  to  engage  in  any  adventures  of  im- 
portance, and  though  Sandoval  calls  him  "  another 
Hannibal  in  Capua,"  his  inaction  is  quite  as  easily 
understood  as  the  great  Carthaginian's.  But 
though  loft  almost  alone,  Padilla  stood  firm,  and 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  259 

refused  the  overtures  that  were  made  to  him  by 
the  Admiral,  at  the  very  moment  when  the  Com- 
munities were  on  the  brink  of  deep  and  fearful  ruin. 

On  both  sides,  however,  there  was,  at  this  pe- 
riod of  the  war,  great  want  both  of  resources  and 
enterprise.  The  Cavahers  were  hardly  able  to 
keep  together  any  considerable  forces,  and  were 
even  reduced  to  sell  their  plate  in  order  to  pay 
the  arrears  of  their  soldiers.  The  Commoners, 
who  had  little  plate  to  sell,  tried  other  means,  and 
at  Valladolid  the  magistrates  ordered  the  gates  to 
be  shut,  while  they  plundered  the  chief  monastery 
in  the  city  of  six  thousand  ducats,  or  about  forty- 
five  thousand  dollars.  A  strange  scene  was  en- 
acted at  Toledo,  under  the  direction  of  Maria 
Pacheco,  Padilla's  wife.  She  herself,  clothed  in 
deepest  mourning,  and  walking  npon  her  knees, 
crept,  with  tears  and  signs  of  lamentation,  into 
the  Cathedral  sacristy,  and  took  away  all  the 
treasures  it  contained.  So  the  "dance  of  the 
Commoners,*'  as  the  war  is  called  by  a  contem- 
porary chronicler,  continued  ;  but  it  was  a  dance 
of  death,  even  to  the  lookers  on. 

One  of  the  Council's  messengers  to  the  king  now 
returned  with  hot-headed  stories  of  the  dangers  he 
had  met  on  his  way,  and  endeavored  to  make  him- 
self important  at  the  expense  of  the  people's  peace. 
He  was  a  foohsh  monk,  named  Fray  Pablo,  and 
it  was  very  probably  by  his  own  doing  that  there 
appeared  a  proclamation,  posted  at  night  in  the 


260         WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

great  square  of  Valladolid,  directed  in  the  king's 
name  against  all  the  Castilian  Communities,  in 
general,  and  against  no  less  than  five  hundred 
Commoners,  in  particular.  This  was  great  ag- 
gravation to  the  populace,  but  they  were  relieved, 
the  next  day,  by  a  public  ceremony,  in  which  the 
Council  played  the  chief  parts,  among  a  throng  of 
musicians,  heralds,  citizens  and  soldiers.  In  their 
presence  was  proclaimed  judgment  upon  Regents, 
royal  Councillors  and  Cavaliers,  as  guilty  of  cru- 
elty and  treachery.  At  almost  the  same  time,  a 
letter  from  the  Cardinal  Regent  to  the  king  was 
intercepted,  in  which  good  old  Adrian  counselled 
his  master  to  favor  the  Commoners'  just  demands 
rather  than  trust  to  the  Cavaliers'  doubtful  obe- 
dience. So  the  Commoners  were  again  encour- 
aged. But  the  day  of  the  king's  triumph  and  the 
people's  defeat  was  close  at  hand. 

On  the  twenty-first  of  April,  the  Regents  joined 
their  forces  at  Penaflor,  a  few  miles  to  the  north- 
east of  Torrelobaton.  On  the  next  day,  the  royal 
troops,  ten  thousand  in  number,  were  reviewed  in 
the  Regents'  presence,  and  were  then  set  in  march 
against  the  wasted  army  of  the  Commoners. 
Juan  de  Padilla  was  in  no  condition  to  await  the 
Cavaliers,  so  much  more  numerous  and  better 
disciplined  than  his  own  soldiers,*  and  he  at  once 


*  "  Proceribus  [the  Cavaliers]  equitum  nobilium  copia  ingens, 
Juncteris  [the  Commoners]  fere  nulla  et  ea  bellorum  expers."  — 
Paler  Martyr.    Ep.  720. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  261 

determined  to  retreat,  eighteen  miles,  to  Toro, 
where  he  might  meet  some  promised  reinforce- 
ments, or  whence,  in  their  faihire,  he  might  press 
on  towards  Salamanca.  At  all  events,  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  avoid  decisive  action.  The 
war  between  Charles  the  Emperor  and  Francis  of 
France  was  already  begmi,  and  French  troops 
were  marching  into  Navarre.  Could  Padilla  have 
saved  his  forces,  until  tlie  Regents'  army  was 
drawn  away  to  meet  this  northern  invasion,  the 
cause  of  the  Communities  might  have  triumphed 
in  the  end. 

His  orders  to  retreat  from  Torrelobaton  were 
given  in  the  early  morning  of  the  twenty- 
third  of  April.  A  priest,  breakfasting  at  the 
General's  table,  suddenly  cried  out,  "  It  hath 
been  revealed  to  me  that  on  such  a  day  as  this, 
the  Cavaliers  shall  conquer,  and  the  Common- 
ers shall  fall ;  so  go  not  forth  from  the  town." 
"Peace!"  replied  Padilla  solemnly,  "and  pray 
to  God,  in  whose  name  I  have  devoted  my  life  to 
the  welfare  of  these  kingdoms,  for  now  there  is 
no  time  to  stay."  The  signs  in  which  that  stout 
heart  trusted,  were  of  higher  nature  than  belonged 
to  a  priest's  dreams.     To  him,  surely, 

"  The  best  of  omens  was  his  country's  cause," 

and  to  that  he  gave  himself  in  defeat  or  victory. 
Before  dawn,  the  Commoners  were  on  their  march 
towards  Toro.  The  retreat  was  perfectly  ordered 
by  Padilla,  who  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  all 


262  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

his  cavalry,  in  the  rear.  The  enemy  was  soon  in 
hot  pursuit,  attacking  the  retreating  army  wher- 
ever it  was  most  exposed,  yet  everywhere  meeting 
with  manful  and  orderly  resistance.  The  Count 
de  Haro,  at  length,  came  up  himself  with  three 
or  four  thousand  horse,  a  force  much  superior  in 
strength  to  the  whole  army  of  Commoners.  At 
Villalar,  six  miles  from  Torrelobaton,  the  van 
guard  of  Padilla's  march,  wearied  and  despairing, 
began  to  waver.  The  mud  was  deep  upon  the 
ground,  and  a  heavy  rain  drove  full  in  the  sol- 
diers' faces  as  they  struggled  on.  So  soon  as  the 
Count  de  Haro  saw  signs  of  disorder  in  the  broken 
ranks  before  him,  he  ordered  his  artillery  to  open 
its  fire  and  his  infantry  to  engage  directly  with 
the  Commoners.  Padilla's  troops  were  scattered 
about  the  narrow  plain,  like  fallen  leaves.  He 
would  have  gathered  and  encouraged  them : 

"  Then  in  the  name  of  God  and  all  these  rights, 
Advance  your  standards,  draw  your  willing  swords : 
For  me,  the  ransom  of  my  bold  attempt 
Shall  be  this  cold  corse  on  the  earth's  cold  face ; 
But  if  I  thrive,  the  gain  of  my  attempt 
The  least  of  you  shall  bear  his  part  thereof." 

But  his  words  and  his  deeds  were  equally  spent 
in  vain.  His  cannoneers  deserted  their  guns,  and 
his  infantry  fled,  tearing  their  red  crosses  from 
their  breasts,  without  spirit  enough  to  save  their 
own  lives.  Still,  and  alone,  the  horsemen,  the  best 
of  that  poor  army,  fought  bravely,  following  be- 
hind Padilla,  who  spurred  his  steed  and  waved 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  263 

his  arms  against  the  shouting  Cavaliers.  But  the 
day  was  lost,  and  the  horsemen,  too,  rode  fast 
away.  Then  Padilla,  crying  "  St.  James  and 
Liberty  !"  plunged,  with  five  chosen  companions, 
into  the  fast-ebbing  fight.  Alone  he  dared  to 
brave  the  host  that  his  whole  army  had  feared, 
but  his  lance  was  soon  broken,  he  was  himself 
severely  wounded,  and  so  fell  at  last  into  the 
hands  of  his  enemies.  Scarcely  had  he  yielded 
his  blunted  sword,  when  one  of  the  bystanders, 
now  crowding  around  him,  thrust  a  dagger's  point 
into  the  open  bars  of  Padilla' s  helmet,  but  the 
wound  was  slighter  than  the  shame  of  so  hateful 
a  deed.  Bravo  of  Segovia,  and  Maldonado  of 
Salamanca,  Padilla's  faithful  fellow-soldiers,  were 
taken  with  him.  More  than  a  thousand  Common- 
ers were  made  prisoners,  and  five  hundred,  at 
least,  lay  slaughtered  like  sheep  upon  the  field. 
The  battle  of  Yillalar  was  "  a  mortal  blow,"  and 
the  war  of  the  Communities  was  at  an  end,  in 
a  little  more  than  a  year  from  the  time  of  its  be- 
ginning. 


264  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 


VI. 


In  the  night  following  the  unhappy  day  of  Vil- 
lalar,  Padilla,  Bravo  and  Maldonado  were  con- 
demned to  death  on  the  morrow.  No  form  of 
common  justice  was  allowed  to  protect  them,  and 
all  unavailing  was  the  Constable's  generous  coun- 
sel that  the  king's  will  should  be  consulted  before 
the  prisoners  were  executed.  Death  could  not 
have  been  unwelcome  to  Padilla,  now  that  his 
hopes  were  dead  before  him.  His  last  hours  were 
occupied  with  his  nearest  duties  towards  home 
and  towards  those  who  made  home  dear.  "  To 
thee,  crown  of  Spain,"  he  wrote  to  Toledo,*  "to 
thee,  light  of  the  world,  thy  legitimate  son  de- 
clares that  his  very  joyful  consolation  is  dying  for 
thee  here."  "  If  your  grief,"  he  wrote  to  his  wife, 
"  did  not  trouble  me  more  than  my  own  death,  I 
should  consider  myself  to  be  most  entirely  fortu- 
nate. .  .  In  your  keeping  I  leave  my  heart,  and  do 
you  still  cherish  it  as  that  which  most  dearly  loved 
you."  His  father  was  still  alive  to  mourn  his  son 
buried  before  him,  but  the  father  belonged  to  the 
triumphant  Cavaliers,  and  "to  him,"  said  Padilla 
in  the  same  letter  for  his  wife,   "  to  him  I  do  not 

*  These  letters  of  Padilla  will  be  found  at  the  end. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  265 

write  because  I  dare  not ;  for,  though  I  was  his 
son  in  risking  this  loss  of  hfe,  I  have  not  been 
his  heir  in  good  fortune."  As  if  the  greatest  upon 
eardi  might  not  have  been  proud  of  such  a  son  ! 
Padilla  would  have  made  his  last  testament,  but 
even  a  notary's  assistance  was  denied  him,  and 
it  was  only  at  his  renewed  entreaties  that  he  was 
allowed  to  have  a  confessor,  and  with  him  the 
rest  of  that  last  night  was  spent  in  preparation 
and  prayer. 

In  the  morning,  Padilla  and  his  companions 
were  led  out  to  execution.  A  herald  walked  on 
before,  proclaiming  them  to  be  condemned  traitors, 
but  Bravo  called  out  fiercely  that  the  herald,  and 
they  who  sent  him,  lied.  "Traitors!  no!"  cried 
the  warm-hearted  Commoner,  "but lovers  of  the 
people's  weal,  and  defenders  of  the  nation's  lib- 
erty." He  was  struck  with  a  staff  by  one  of  the 
magistrates  and  ordered  to  be  silent,  while  Pa- 
dilla turned  to  him,  and  calmed  all  his  passion, 
by  saying,  "  Yesterday,  Juan  Bravo,  we  had  to 
fight  like  knights,  but,  to-day,  we  have  to  die  like 
Christians."  When  the  prisoners  were  bound  to 
be  executed,  there  arose  amongst  them  almost  a 
dispute  as  to  who  should  be  the  first  to  die, 
"Me,"  exclaimed  Bravo,  "despatch  me,  that  I 
may  not  behold  the  death  of  the  best  knight  in 
Castile  !  "  and,  as  he  asked,  he  was  first  executed. 
Padilla  waited  only  to  put  in  a  bystander's  hands 
some  last  token  for  his  wife,  then  bowed  his  head 


266  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

to  the  executioner,  murmuring,  as  his  eyes  fell 
upon  Bravo' s  corpse,  "Ah!  you  are  there,  good 
knight!"  and  dying  a  serene  and  noble  sacri- 
fice. 

"  Here  Padilla  died, 
Martyr  to  Freedom.     If  thou  dost  love 
Her  cause,  stand  then  as  at  an  altar  here, 
And  thank  the  Almighty  that  thine  honest  heart, 
Full  of  a  brother's  feelings  for  mankind, 
Rebels  against  oppression." 

After  Padilla,  Maldonado  was  executed,  "and 
so,"  says  the  historian,  "  the  troubles  of  these 
three  were  ended."  "  Like  the  furious  current  of  a 
sudden  whirlwind,"  as  the  same  one  adds,  "  the 
war  passed  by,  and  was  done."  It  was  cutting 
the  stoutest  mast  away  to  strike  Padilla  down  ; 
the  sails  loosened,  the  cords  cracked,  and  the 
wreck  was  utter  ruin. 

The  Council  fled  from  Yalladolid  and  disap- 
peared "like  smoke  in  the  air."  Valladolid, 
itself,  terrified  at  the  Cavaliers'  approach,  did  not 
even  dare  to  ring  its  great  bell,  but  sought  pardon 
by  complete  submission.  As  the  surrender  of 
such  a  principal  city  would  be  an  example  to  all 
others,  the  Regents  granted  it  favorable  terms  of 
peace,  excepting  only  eighteen  Commoners  who 
had  been  most  forward  in  past  seditions;  but  only 
two  of  these  eighteen  were  executed,  the  others 
making  their  escape  without  being  pursued.  Four 
days  after  the  battle  of  Villalar,  the  royal  troops 
made  their  entry  into  the  city  with  great  parade, 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  ""  "^^'^'^^• 

yet  all  wasted  upon  --^  citizens,  who  kept  doors 
and  window-  closed,  either  through  fear  or 
l_jjj.Q,^i-i  resolution.  But  the  submission  of  Valla- 
solid  and  the  clemency  with  which  it  was  re- 
ceived, were  more  sufficient  than  armies  could 
have  been,  in  bringing  back  Castile  to  its  alle- 
giance. One  after  another  the  cities  opened  their 
gates  and  laid  down  their  arms. 

The  Count  de  ■  Salvatierra,  taken  while  still 
struggling  against  the  Cavaliers,  was  imprisoned 
at  Burgos,  where,  some  years  after,  he  died.* 
Bishop  Antonio,  of  Zamora,  just  rejoicing  in  the 
Toledo  archbishopric,  was  forced  to  escape  in  dis- 
guise from  all  his  dignities,  and  then  was  taken 
on  his  flight.  His  castle  of  Fermosel,  in  the 
north,  was  one  of  the  last  strongholds  surrendered 
to  the  Cavaliers.  The  Bishop  relieved  himself 
by  killing  his  jailor,  at  Simancas,  and  getting  out 
of  prison,  but  he  was  soon  put  in  again,  and,  two 
years  afterwards,  was  condemned  to  death  by 
Alcalde  Ronquillo,  at  that  time  appointed  by  brief 
from  the  pope  to  judge  all  priests  and  friars,  who 
had   taken   part   in    the   war  against   the   king. 


*  There  is  a  pleasant  story  told  of  Salvatierra's  son,  that,  while 
his  father  was  lying  in  prison,  he  sold  his  horse  to  give  the  old 
Count  food  and  clothes.  The  boy  was  then  a  page  in  the  royal 
service,  and  what  he  had  done  being  reported  at  court,  he  was 
presently  called  to  account  by  the  king  himself.  "  I  sold  my  horse," 
said  yoimg  Salvatierra,  "  to  give  my  father  food."  Charles  was  in 
one  of  his  royal  humors,  and  ordered  his  page  to  be  presented  with 
enough  to  buy  two  horses  in  place  of  the  one  he  had  sold. 


^■^^-  -^  ^jjE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

Neither  Pedro  Giron  nor  ^.^^.^  j^^^^  received  any 
reward  for  the  treachery  they  v^^  ^^^^  ^^  ^^q 
Communities,  and  their  disappearance  i^^  ^^le 
chronicles  we  read,  is  the  only  comfort  to  be  u^^^ 
in  those  days  of  despair. 

The  spirit  of  Castile  sank  and  fell  with  Padilla. 
In  all  parts  of  Spain  the  people  were  now  abandon- 
ing their  hopes  and  liberties.  Only  Toledo  stood 
firm,  sustained  yet  a  little  while  longer  by  the 
fortitude  of  a  widowed  and  desolate  woman.  Ma- 
ria Pacheco  was  faithful  to  the  cause  for  which 
her  husband  had  perished.  Hostile  chroniclers 
declare  her  to  have  been  ambitious,  vain,  and  in- 
human, nor  do  they  hesitate  to  charge  her  with  fol- 
lowing out  her  evil  courses  by  the  help  of  sorcery. 
One  calls  her  "the  tyranness  of  Toledo;"  an- 
other, "a  firebrand  to  the  whole  kingdom;  "  but 
such  names  it  was  unmanly  to  give,  and  we  will 
believe  them  not.  The  truth  is,  that  Maria  Pa- 
checo, a  woman  of  passionate  nature,  gave  her 
whole  heart  to  the  great  purposes  of  her  lord,  and 
would  have  supported  them  with  more  than  wo- 
man's enthusiasm.  If  her  miseries  made  her  mad, 
at  last,  if  she  forgot  the  gentleness  of  spirit  which 
should  have  been  her  handmaid,  and  yielded  her- 
self to  the  fiercer  companionship  of  despair,  she 
does  not  therefore  deserve  that  we  look  upon  her 
as  proud,  or  ignorant,  or  ferocious.  Her  story  is 
one  of  the  extremities  to  which  the  Commoners  of 
her  day  were  driven,  even  against  their  will. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  269 

When  the  news  of  Padilla's  death  was  brought  to 
Toledo,  his  wife,  clad  in  mournhig  robes  and  bear- 
ing her  young  child,  went  forth  among  the  people, 
to  whom  it  seemed  that  she  was  the  one  to  inherit 
her  husband's  influence,  and  they  "  acknowledged 
her  not  as  a  woman,"  writes  the  sneering  chroni- 
cler, "  but  as  a  hero."  She  accepted  the  inheri- 
tance as  a  duty,  though  with  what  hopes  of 
defending  Toledo  against  the  whole  strength  of 
Spain  it  is  not  easy  to  comprehend.  She  may 
have  been  encouraged  by  the  French  invasion  of 
Navarre,  or  by  the  rebellion  against  the  nobility 
which  still  existed  in  Valencia  and  Majorca ;  but 
on  whatever  else  she  depended,  to  one  resolution 
she  clung  fast,  of  keeping  her  home  and  Padilla's 
free  from  the  Cavaliers.  She  opened  a  corre- 
spondence with  many  of  the  Castilian  cities,  and 
even  wrote  to  the  French  general  in  the  north. 
Nor  did  she  neglect  to  keep  alive  the  dying  spirit 
of  Toledo.  She  ordered  crucifixes  to  be  borne  be- 
fore her  soldiers  ;  and  at  her  own  side  was  carried 
a  painted  efligy  of  her  husband,  headless  and 
bleeding  on  his  scaffold.  She  took  possession  of 
the  Alcazar,  or  citadel,  and,  summoning  the  assis- 
tance of  a  few  faithful  councillors,  among  whom 
we  meet,  again,  with  Hernando  de  Avalos,  Maria 
Pacheco  bade  defiance  to  King,  Regents  and  Cava- 
liers. Although  troops  were  instantly  sent  against 
Toledo,  this  hero-woman  defended  her  towns- 
people for  many  long  months,  in  spite  of  their 


270  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

wasting  numbers  and  failing  energies.  The  Re- 
gents sought  to  have  her  person  seized,  but  the 
Toledans  were  not  yet  so  faint-hearted  as  to 
abandon  her.  Yet  pardon  and  possession  of  an- 
cient privileges  being  soon  assured  them  by  the 
king,  their  resohitions  were  forgotten,  and  their 
city  was  surrendered,  (February,  1522.)*  Then, 
when  all  was  over,  she  who  had  secured  the  peo- 
ple's safety  by  forcing  them  to  self-protection, 
fled  away  in  disguise.  The  wife  and  son  of  Pa- 
dilla  could  find  no  place  of  refuge  in  Spain,  but 
hid  themselves  in  Portugal,  where,  not  long  after, 
they  died  in  want  and  suffering.  The  house, 
which  had  been  their  home  and  Padilla's,  in  To- 
ledo, was,  by  the  king's  order,  razed  to  the  ground, 
and  a  pillar  of  stone,  to  Padilla's  glory  rather  than 
his  shame,  was  set  to  mark  the  empty  space. 
The  pillar  is  fallen,  but  the  uncovered  ground  is 
still  the  home  of  warm  associations,  forever  dwell- 
ing with  the  name  of  Juan  de  Padilla. 

Charles  the  Emperor,  everywhere  triumphant, 
in  France,  in  Italy,  and  in  Germany,  returned  to 
Spain  in  the  summer  of  1522.  He  was  welcomed 
with  demonstrations  of  great  joy  by  all  parties 
and   all  classes  among   his   people.     Peace   and 


*  Some  say  that  the  clergy  of  Toledo,  offentled  by  the  plunder  of 
their  cathedral-treasures,  were  chief  aiders  and  al)etlors  in  this  sur- 
render;  l)Ut  the  sul)dued  and  wearied  people  were  much  more  likely 
lo  have  acted  here  for  themselves. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  271 

stibmission  were  already  established  throughout 
his  kingdom,  and  neither  would  be  disturbed  by 
him.  Rebellion  in  Castile  had  kept  him  tyranni- 
cal, but  triumph  over  Castile  now  made  him  mer- 
ciful. ''  Enough,"  he  said,  soon  after  his  return, 
"  enough,  let  no  more  blood  be  shed  in  Spain." 
Only  the  most  turbulent  Commoners  were  marked 
out  for  punishment,  and  some  among  these  were 
saved  or  permitted  to  save  themselves.  Hernando 
de  Avalos,  who  had  gone  into  exile  with  Padilla's 
widow,  returned,  after  her  death,  and  was  seen  in 
disguise  at  Court,  where  he  was  naturally  at- 
tracted by  hope  of  pardon.  Charles  was  told  by 
one  of  his  busy  courtiers,  that  Avalos  was  near 
and  might  be  taken.  "  Better  tell  Avalos  to 
escape,"  replied  right  royally  the  king,  "than  in- 
form me  of  his  being  in  my  power." 

Three  months  after  (Oct.  1.522)  Charles's  re- 
turn, a  proclamation  of  pardon  to  all  Castile  was 
made  in  his  name  and  in  his  presence,  upon  the 
great  square  of  Valladolid,  that  square  of  many 
different  scenes.  "  Considering  the  ancient  loy- 
alty of  these  kingdoms,  and  the  great  and  famous 
deeds  which  their  native  people  have  performed 
.  .  .  and  regarding  that  the  people,  knowing  their 
errors,  have  now  returned  to  obedience  .  .  .  and 
desiring  that  all  the  subjects  and  natives  of  the 
kingdom  may  now  and  henceforward  live  in  tran- 
quillity and  peace,  and  that  they  may  love  the 
king  with  perfect  love,  and  be  bound  in  greater 


272  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

duty  to  serve  him :  .  .  .  Therefore,  of  his  own 
will,  sure  knowledge,  deliberate  pleasure  and  ab- 
solute power,  the  king  doth  pardon  and  absolve, 
now  and  forever,  all  the  cities  and  towns  of  Cas- 
tile from  all  the  crimes  and  excesses,  greater 
or  less,  as  many  as  have  been  committed  and 
done,  from  the  beginning  of  the  year  1520,  until 
this  present  day."  This  was  the  plan  of  pardon, 
and  all  its  succeeding  details  were  worthy  of  such 
a  beginning.  A  great  festival  followed  at  Valla- 
dolid,  in  which  the  king  himself  took  part,  re- 
joicing that  his  subjects  were  boimd  to  him  again, 
and  those  subjects,  too,  rejoicing  that  their  deeds, 
brave  or  violent,  were  forgiven  them. 

Here  Sandoval,  a  Spanish  historian,  who  has 
been  at  our  side  throughout  the  war,  draws  a  long 
breath,  and  says :  "I  come,  as  one  who  has  sailed 
afar,  tossed  by  the  waves  and  broken  by  the 
worse  than  civil  commotions  of  my  country,  to 
the  fortunate  port  and  fair  weather  of  a  glorious 
reign." 

And  most  men,  who  have  been  called  histo- 
rians, would  say  the  same  thing  of  Charles  the 
Fifth's  reign,  that  it  was  great  and  glorious  to 
himself  and  to  his  people.  But  such  things  shall 
be  said  no  longer.  Dominion  is  given  to  man 
over  his  fellow-men,  not  that  the  weaker  may  be 
crushed,  nor  that  the  stronger  may  trample,  iron- 
heeled,  upon  human  rights  and  human  lives,  but 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  273 

that  the  stronger  may  make  his  power  dear  even 
to  the  weaker,  by  its  justice  and  its  charity. 
Charles  of  Spain  declared  the  principles  by  which 
he  meant  to  reign,  when  he  pronounced  the  depu- 
ties of  the  "  Holy  Council  "  to  be  traitors,  ordering 
them  and  the  Commoners  to  death  without  delay 
of  trial,  anulando  las  leyes  en  contrario,  usando 
de  sii  poderio  I'ecd  absohdo,  como  senor  natural  de 
estos  relnos,  annulling  all  contrary  laws  by  virtue 
of  his  absolute  royal  power  as  natural  lord  of 
Castile.  Such  principles  as  lay,  seen  or  unseen, 
in  this  declaration,  were  not  the  principles,  for 
whose  sake  monarchy  was  acknowledged  as 
necessary  to  human  government  in  the  fifteenth 
and  sixteenth  centuries.  Kings'  and  Emperors' 
responsibilities  rested  upon  higher  duties  than 
victories  abroad  or  triumphs  at  home ;  their  offices 
on  earth  were  not  completed  by  binding  in  chains 
and  tears,  the  subjects  intrusted  them  by  God. 
Unrighteous,  however,  as  they  often  were,  those 
earthly  sovereigns  were  still,  unconsciously,  ful- 
filling the  holy  purposes  of  Providence,  and  re- 
sistance to  their  power,  while  it  endured,  was 
impossible.  So  did  the  Commoners  of  1.520  fail 
in  rebellion  against  their  king.  The  freedom  they 
sought  at  the  sword's  point,  would  have  been 
more  surely  won  in  patience  and  in  peace.  Any 
great  work  of  man  must  be  prepared  before  it 
can  be  sustained;  but  the  Commoners  scarcely 
knew  what  they  were  about  at  any  time,  and  their 


274  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

liberties  were  more  injured  by  themselves  than 
they  could  have  been,  perhaps,  even  by  absolute 
Charles.  A  revolution  will  never  succeed,  —  such 
testimony  all  history  bears,  —  if  it  have  no  other 
supports  than  frenzy  or  bloodshed.*  Among  the 
Commoners  there  was  not  only  want  of  under- 
standing and  preparation,  but  quite  as  much  want 
of  union  and  good  faith.  Where  one  was  earnest 
like  Padilla,  many  another  was  false  like  Pedro 
Giron.  It  was  a  great  cause  that  they  upheld, 
but  it  needed  stouter  arms  and  truer  hearts,  and 
gentler  means  and  better  times  than  theirs.  Peace 
to  the  fallen ! 

From  the  day  of  Villalar,  the  course  of  Castilian 
history  is  changed.  The  spirit  of  the  early  Chris- 
tians, whom  we  followed  to  the  mountains,  aban- 
doned their  descendants,  whom  we  are  leaving  on 
the  southern  plains.  Soldiers  drew  their  swords, 
henceforward,  for  royalty  and  not  for  liberty. 
Historians  repeated  the  glories  of  kings,  and  not 
of  nations.  Philosophers  devoted  their  contem- 
plations to  the  powers  of  sovereignty,  rather  than 
to  the  rights  of  subjects.  Even  poets  sang  of  any 
other  thing  than  the  memories  and  the  hopes  of 
freemen.  Deeper  and  darker  have  been  the  shades 
so  long  fallen  upon  Spain,   deeper  and  darker 

*  "  Revolutions,  which  are  brought  on  by  general  distress,  in  at- 
tempting to  remedy  it,  usually  destroy  the  foundations  of  a  perma- 
nent free  constitution,'  and,  after  horrible  convulsions,  have  almost 
always  ended  in  despotism."  —  Nicbuhr,  Hist,  of  Rome,  Vol.  II. 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  275 

every  year,  even  when  the  majesty  of  her  name 
has  been  most  universal. 

"  Yet,  freedom,  yet  thy  banner  torn,  but  flying, 
Streams  like  the  thunder-storm  against  the  wind  ; 
Thy  trumpet-voice,  though  broken  now  and  dying, 
The  loudest  still  the  tempest  leaves  behind  !  " 

To  that  "trumpet-voice"  the  world  will  never 
shut  its  ears,  nor,  while  we  hear  its  most  distant 
echoes,  will  we  doubt  the  coming  to  Spain  of 
serener  liberties  than  those  for  which  Juan  de 
Padilla  died. 


LETTERS    OF   PADILLA, 

See  page  264. 

Carta  de  Juan  de  Padilla  para  su  Muger. 

Seriora,  Si  vuestra  pena  no  me  lastimara  mas  que  mi  muerte,  yo 
me  tuviera  enteramente  por  bien  avenlurado.  Que  siendo  a  todos 
tan  cierta,  seiialado  bien  hace  Dios  al  que  la  da  tai,  aunque  sea  de 
muchos  plaiiida,  y  del  recibida  en  algun  sevvicio.  Quisiera  tener 
mas  espacio  del  que  tengo  para  escribiros  algunas  cosas  para  vuestro 
consuelo  :  ni  a  mi  me  lo  dan,  ni  yo  querria  mas  dilacion  en  recibir  la 
corona  que  espero.  Vos,  Senora,  como  cuerda  llora  vuestra  des- 
dicha,  y  no  mi  muerte  que  siendo  ella  tan  justa  de  nadie  deve  ser 
llorada.  Mi  anima,  pues  ya  otra  cosa  no  tengo,  dejo  en  vuestras 
manos.  Vos,  Sefiora,  lo  haced  con  ella,  como  con  la  cosa  que  mas 
OS  quiso.  A  Pero  Lopez  mi  senor  [padre]  no  escrivo  porque  no  oso, 
que  aunque  fui  su  hijo  en  osar  perder  la  vida,  no  fui  su  heredero 
en  la  ventura.  No  quiero  mas  dilatar  por  no  dar  pena  al  verdugo 
que  me  espsra,  y  por  no  dar  sospecha  que  por  alargar  la  vida,  alargo 
la  carta.  Mi  criado  Sossa,  como  testigo  de  vista,  e  de  lo  secreto  de 
mi  voluntad,  os  dira  lo  demas  que  aqui  falta,  y  asi  quedo  dejando 
esta  pena,  esperando  el  cuchillo  de  vuestro  dolor  y  de  mi  descanso. 

Oira  Carta  de  Juan  de  Padilla  a  la  Ciudad  de  Toledo. 

A  ti  Corona  de  Espaiia  y  luz  del  todo  el  mundo  :  desde  los  altos 
Godos  muy  libertada.  A  ti  que  por  derramftmientos  de  sangres 
estraiias  como  de  las  tuyas  cobraste  libertad  para  ti  e  para  tus 
vecinas  ciudades.  Tu  legitimo  hijo  Juan  de  Padilla  te  hago  saber 
como  con  la  sangre  de  mi  cuerpo  se  refrescan  tus  vittorias  ante- 
pasadas.  Si  mi  ventura  no  me  dej6  poner  mis  hechos  eutre  tus  nom- 
bradas  hazaflas,  la  culpa  fue  en  mi  mala  dicha,  y  no  en  mi  buena 
voluntad.  La  qual  como  a  madre  te  requiero  me  recibas,  pues  Dios 
no  mc  di6  mas  que  perder  por  ti  de  lo  quo  aventurc.  Mas  me  pesa 
de  tu  sentimiento  que  de  mi  vida.  Pero  mira  que  son  veces  de  la 
fortuna,  que  jamas  tienen  sosiego.  Solo  voy  con  un  consuelo  muy 
alcgre,  que  yo  el  mcnor  de  los  tuyos  muero  por  ti :  e  que  tu  has 


WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE.  277 

criado  a  tus  pechos  aquien  podria  toniar  emienda  de  mi  agravio. 
Muchos  lenguas  habra  que  mi  muerte  contaran,  que  aun  yo  no  la  se, 
aunque  la  tengo  bien  cerca.  Mi  fin  te  dara  teslimonio  de  mi  deseo. 
Mi  anima  te  encomiendo  como  patrona  de  la  Christianidad  ;  del 
cucrpo  no  digo  nada,  pucs  ya  no  es  mio,  ni  puedo  mas  escribir, 
porque  al  punto  que  esla  acabado,  tengo  a  la  garganta  el  cuchillo, 
con  mas  pasion  de  lu  enojo  que  temor  de  mi  pena. 

[of  these  letters  the  translations  follow.] 

Juan  de  Padilla  to  his  Wife. 

Wife,  if  your  grief  did  not  trouble  me  more  than  my  own  death,  I 
should  consider  myself  to  be  most  entirely  fortunate.  For  since 
death  is  so  sure  to  all  men,  God  shows  greatest  favor  to  him  who 
meets  such  a  death  as  mine  ;  if,  although  it  be  much  deplored  on 
earth,  it  may  ^e  accepted  as  some  service  by  Him.  I  wish  that  I 
had  more  time  than  I  have  to  write  you  something  for  your  conso- 
lation ;  but  this  is  not  given  me,  nor  would  I  ask  any  longer  delay 
in  receiving  the  crown  I  hope  for.  You,  wife,  may  reasonably 
mourn  over  your  own  loss,  but  not  over  my  death,  which  is  too 
honorable  to  be  mourned  by  any  one.  I  leave  my  heart,  and  I  have 
nothing  else,  now,  to  leave,  in  your  keeping  ;  and  do  you,  wife,  still 
cherish  it  as  that  which  most  dearly  loved  you.  To  Pero  Lopez,  to 
my  father,  I  do  not  write,  because  I  dare  not ;  for  although  I  was  his 
son  in  risking  this  loss  of  life,  I  have  not  been  his  heir  in  good  for- 
tune. I  will  say  no  more,  lest  I  trouble  the  executioner  who  now 
waits  for  me,  and  lest  I  should  be  suspected  of  lengthening  my  let- 
ter for  the  sake  of  lengthening  my  life.  My  servant  Sossa,  who 
will  have  seen  all  that  has  happened,  and  will  be  acquainted  with 
all  my  secret  desires,  will  tell  you  what  is  here  wanting;  and  so  I 
break  off,  ending  this  grief,  at  least,  and  waiting  the  knife  which 
will  be  the  instrument  of  your  sorrow  and  of  my  repose." 

Juan  de  Padilla  to  the  City  of  Toledo. 

"  To  thee,  crown  of  Spain  and  light  of  the  whole  world,  free  from 
the  great  Goths'  time  :  to  thee,  that  hast  won  freedom  for  thyself 
and  for  thy  neighboring  cities,  by  lavishing  both  stranger  blood  and 
thy  own.  I,  thy  legitimate  son,  Juan  de  Padilla,  do  now  make  thee 
know  how  thy  past  victories  may  be  refreshed  with  the  blood  of  my 


278  WAR  OF  THE  COMMUNITIES  IN  CASTILE. 

body.  If  I  have  not  been  permitted  by  success  to  set  up  my  owq 
deeds  amongst  all  thy  recorded  glories,  the  fault  was  in  my  bad 
fortune  and  not  in  my  good  will  ;  which  last  I  implore  thee  as  a 
mother  to  accept,  since  God  hath  given  me  no  more  to  lose  than  what 
I  had  already  risked  for  thee.  I  am  more  troubled  about  thy  re- 
sentment than  about  my  life  ;  yet  these  are  but  the  changes  of  for- 
tune which  never  cease.  I  go  with  the  very  joyful  consolation  that 
I,  the  least  of  thy  children,  am  dying  for  thee,  and  that  there  is  some 
one  nourished  at  thy  bosom  who  will  make  amends  for  my  failure. 
There  will  be  many  tongues  to  tell  of  this  death,  of  which  I  do  not 
yet,  myself,  know  all,  although  it  be  very  near  to  me  ;  but  my  end 
will  bear  witness  to  thee  of  my  desires.  I  commend  my  spirit  to 
thee  as  to  the  patroness  of  Christendom  ;  of  my  body  I  say  nothing, 
as  it  is  no  longer  mine  ;  nor  can  I  write  anything  more,  for,  at  the 
moment  just  ended,  I  have  the  knife  upon  my  throat,  yet  with  more 
sorrow  for  thy  disappointment  than  fear  of  my  own  suffering." 


END. 


